


Seeking An After For You

by ZushiGirl



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Daredevil (TV) Spoilers, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Foggy Nelson & Karen Page Friendship, Gen, The Punisher (TV 2017) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 83,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26398339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZushiGirl/pseuds/ZushiGirl
Summary: It's been five months since Karen and Frank parted ways at the hospital.  Each thought they were moving on with their lives, and finding their "after."  Then, a threat against Karen and a mysterious shooting in Vermont bring them back together.  Is it Wilson Fisk's doing?  Is he ready to make Karen pay for her sins against him?  Or does someone more sinister have both Karen and the Punisher in their sights?  Karen and Frank will have to work together to uncover the mystery, and maybe find their after in the process.
Relationships: Frank Castle & Karen Page, Frank Castle/Karen Page, Frank Castle/Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson/Karen Page, Frank Castle/Matt Murdock/Karen Page
Comments: 48
Kudos: 122





	1. Like a Ton of Bricks

**Author's Note:**

> "What you seek is seeking you." ~ Rumi

_Wilson Fisk was glaring at her...his hands were coming closer...then there was red._

Red. That was the color that flooded Karen’s vision as she woke with a start. “Shit,” she breathed. The nightmare of Wilson Fisk clasping his hands around her throat was old news by now. She had the dream at least once a week, but it didn’t make it any easier. It felt too real…his hands wrapped around her throat; the glare in his eyes; her seeing red. Karen took a few deep breaths to steady herself. _“You’re ok,_ ” she said over and over. Logically, she knew she was. Wilson Fisk was behind bars. Karen, Matt, and Foggy had been investigating some sleaze bags and intense cases for Nelson, Murdock, and Page (or NMP as Karen sometimes called it), but no one of the same caliber of evil as Fisk. She knew that after all the craziness of the past year, Matt and Foggy would steer her away from too grizzly of a case. It annoyed her, but she realized they were trying to be good friends. After the run in with Fisk, the fake Daredevil, the massacre at the Bulletin, and her own adventures with another vigilante, Karen was…tired. Her emotions were drained. So, she let her two favorite lawyers baby her a bit. Karen looked at the clock. 5:30am. _“Damn it.”_ Too early for her taste, but she could walk to the office and take her time. Let the cold air wake her up. She’d get there before Foggy or Matt, and it would give her time to work on her piece for Ellison. Even though she was no longer a full-time employee at the Bulletin, Karen missed it. When Mitchell Ellison approached her about writing some free-lance stuff, Karen accepted. It had been an emotional and awkward conversation: Ellison tried to tell her he’d overreacted when he fired her, and Karen kept tearing up thinking about how her co-workers were killed. Still, they’d muddled through the conversation with some tears and dry humor. Ellison was the closest thing Karen had to a father now, and – damn – she wanted him to be proud of her. It was settled, Karen jumped in the shower while her coffee brewed (coffee being the only item in her pantry), and she was out the door by 6:15. _“Still too early in the morning,”_ she groaned silently.

Walking in the early morning light, Karen’s gaze rested on the Hudson River. The familiar longing creeped up. It always did by the river, but after a night being haunted by Wilson Fisk, thinking of Frank was even more painful. He would understand. He would let her talk about the dreams, and not try to fix anything. He’d… _“STOP.”_ Karen willed herself to not think about Frank Castle. She didn’t have his number. She couldn’t call him.

_“I don’t want it.”_ His words from the hospital echoed in her head. He made his choice: He was the Punisher. Karen didn’t have a place in his world because HE didn’t want anyone in it. She’d kept tabs on him of course. The Bulletin had taught her some useful skills of detection; even though Frank kept out of the limelight, certain crime reels had his name written all over them. Quick. Swift. Violent. Usually centered around drug smuggling and human traffickers. The Punisher was still out there, and Detective Brett Mahoney was on a personal mission to arrest him for charges against New York City. Even if Homeland Security had washed their hands of the Punisher, it made sense for Frank to act like a ghost. Karen was also sure that Matt’s alter ego had seen him around Hell’s Kitchen, but she knew better than to broach the subject. Her friendship with Matt was too fragile to cross him on that point, and Matt had made it clear Karen’s “interest” in the Punisher was dangerous. Somehow, it this made her feel lonelier. She could never look at Matt with the same schoolgirl crush again – not after all the lies between them. Still, she wished she could talk about what had happened with Frank. Thankfully, Foggy was more sympathetic. Karen never outright told him about her connection to Frank, but he seemed to sense something had occurred between them after several incidents when Brett brought up her name in connection to the Punisher. Foggy always checked up on Karen after news of the Punisher aired, and he never mentioned her long “lunch break” from five months ago, or the subsequent change in footwear later that day, to Matt. None of it mattered now though: Frank had chosen his new life, and Karen trying to move on with hers. Still, dedicating herself to work felt pretty empty. Sure, NMP had their nights at Josie’s, but there wasn’t much else on Karen’s social calendar. She often wondered how Frank kept it up. Didn’t he ever want to take a break? Go on a vacation? Grab coffee on a Saturday? Be a normal person? Karen sure as hell did. Glancing once more at the river she whispered, “I hope you’re happy Frank.”

Nelson, Murdock, and Page was a far cry from the butcher shop they’d once worked in. Karen allowed herself a small twinge of pride as she walked up to the brick building. She liked getting there early to look out the windows at the city, brew more coffee, and get her mind ready for the day. Setting her purse down, Karen pulled out her laptop. The story she was currently working on for Ellison actually had bearing to NMP’s current case. A local middle school in Hell’s Kitchen had been shut down due to low funding last summer. NMP were representing the superintendent who wanted to reopen the school. It was being threatened to be torn down by some up and coming art dealer named Todd Less. “Why does the name Todd always go to the bad apples.” Rumor had it Mr. Less had ties to the mob, but NMP couldn’t prove where he got his money. Karen’s piece for the Bulletin highlighted the poor families in Hell’s Kitchen affected by the school shutdown. She’d spent a few late nights last week at a local community center interviewing the families. Seeing the worried parents fret over the kids made Karen’s heart hurt. She bitterly wondered if her father ever felt any concern for her; if he had worried when she was in the wrong crowd with Todd Nieman back in high school. Karen shook her head, sat down at her desk, and began to type. Suddenly, she felt a tingling on the back of her neck. Karen glanced out of her office window to see if anyone was there. It almost felt as if someone was watching –

**BAAMMM!** Karen jumped back as a brick came hurtling through the window. “Shit!” She covered her face to keep shards of glass from cutting her. After a moment, all was quiet. Karen looked out the broken window, but no one had stopped at the sound of breaking glass. Sadly, it was too common an occurrence in Hell’s Kitchen. Shaking, Karen surveyed the damage. She glanced down at the brick on her desk, and her heart jumped. There was a piece of paper taped to the brick. Without thinking, Karen unraveled the tape. Folding the paper open she read the neatly typed words: _Ms. Page, everyone must be held accountable for their actions. Your past is coming for you. WF._

Karen’s blood went cold. WF…that could only be Wilson Fisk, but that was impossible. He was behind bars. Sure, he had enough pull in the city to send some lackey to do his dirty work; however, Karen was pretty sure she’d be jumped in an alley before Fisk would have a brick thrown through her window. Someone could have read about her dealings with him and wanted to pull a prank. Working at the Bulletin hadn’t made her very popular with the city’s underworld. “Stay calm,” Karen thought, _“Let’s just see how this plays out.”_ She told herself that’s why she folded up the paper and put it in her purse. Why she didn’t call the police, and feigned shock when Matt and Foggy arrived at work. “So, you walked in and found the broken window?” Matt asked. “Anything else out of place?” “No,” Karen hoped his superpowers didn’t include lie detection. “Damn,” Foggy muttered, “We should have picked a building with multiple stories. I know we’re not popular with a certain crowd in Hell’s Kitchen, but this is a little much. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.” Karen felt a twinge of guilt at their concern, but she couldn’t let them know about the note. Not yet anyway…too many people had been hurt or even killed because of her decisions in the past.

Later that night, pouring herself a glass of wine, Karen looked at the paper again. “Maybe it was just a joke…” Her phone vibrated, spooking Karen. She looked at the caller ID: It was an unknown number, but the area code was Vermont. Karen reached for her cell, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. “Miss Page,” came the voice on the other line, “I’m Dr. Brooks at Fagan Corners General. Your listed as Paxton Page’s emergency contact. I’m calling to let you know he’s alive, but…he was shot at 7am this morning.” Time seemed to have no meaning after Karen heard those words. She vaguely remembers texting Foggy to say she would not be at work the next day due to an emergency with her father. Barely registers calling Ellison to explain why her draft would be late and asking to barrow his car. The drive out of the city becomes a mere blip on her subconscious. All Karen can focus on is the words spinning around in her head “Your past is coming for you.” Time doesn’t seem to return to a normal speed until Karen sets foot in the hospital. There, sitting in the waiting room is the one person she never expected to see in Fagan Corners. He looks tired and has a few bruises, but damn that man is still as handsome as ever. For a moment, Karen thinks she’s hallucinating. Then she hears the gravel and honey of his voice saying, “Karen.” Everything comes back into focus as Karen stands there in front of Frank Castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loved comics my whole life, but Kastle got me! First fanfic ever, so I hope you enjoy it!


	2. Tourist Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Curt make a pit stop on their way back to New York. Of course someone pulls out a gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Yeah I went with nothing.  
> Nothing but the thought of you.  
> I went wandering."
> 
> I keep picturing Frank and Curt listening to Johnny Cash as they drive. Maybe that's because I was playing The Wanderer as I wrote this chapter. Enjoy!

Frank stared blankly out the window of Curt’s truck taking in the gray around him. It seemed fitting the sky – hell this whole town – was bathed in gray at 6:30 on a snowy February morning. It matched how Frank had been feeling on the inside for…well for far too long than he wanted to admit. Gray. Dull. Tired. He’d spent the last few months hunting down more low life’s in Hell’s Kitchen than he cared to count, and it left him feeling a little numb inside. Curt could see it in his friend’s face, which is why he’d suggested a road trip up the East Coast and then cut through Vermont on their way back to the city. _“It’ll be good man. Get out of the city for a bit and get out of your own head.”_ He knew Curt meant well, but no amount of hiking or dive bar hopping had been able to distract Frank from the empty feeling in his chest. He just wanted to go home, but he wasn’t sure where “home” was. It wasn’t exactly the warehouse laden with guns and artillery where he currently laid his head down most nights.

“Why are we here again?” Frank snapped impatiently. Curtis sighed, “I told you: The cut through Fagan Corners will allow us to see the most of Vermont. It’s a change of scenery as we make our way back to New York. We can make a pit stop and grab some food. I can get some fresh air and take a break from your sorry ass.” Frank laughed, “You didn’t seem too sorry to have me play wingman for you at that bar back in Maine.” Curt gave a smirk and rolled his eyes, “Line dancing was fun. There were some nice girls there. You could have joined us out on the floor.” Frank shook his head, “Not my style brother.”

The truth, though Frank didn’t want to admit it to anyone – especially himself - was that the girl Curt had been dancing with reminded him of Karen. Karen Page. The woman who had charged into his hospital room and demanded he pull his head out of his ass if he wanted to avenge his family. Whose presence had made him feel so damn human and hopeful. He cringed remembering how he’d pushed her away five months ago during their second hospital rendezvous even when she’d called him on it. _“You think you can scare me away that easy?”_ Amy, that smart kid, she’d seen right through his brooding bullshit after they’d escaped the hospital. Amy was as brave and sweet as he’d imagined his Lisa would be. She’d hugged him when he put her on that bus to Florida and whispered, “Call _her_.” Frank knew who Amy meant. Knew he wanted to reach out to Karen, but…he couldn’t. He’d chosen the life of the Punisher, and it brought everyone around him violence. He couldn’t subject Karen to that life. She was _good_. Too good for someone like him. Still, believing he’d made the right choice didn’t ease the ache he felt.

Frank was roused from his thoughts by the feeling of Curt easing the truck into park. He looked up realizing they’d stopped outside a dinner called Penny’s Place. Cute name. Didn’t fit how desolate the town felt. Curt stepped out of the truck and stretched. “Come on brother. Let’s get some chow.” As they walked up to the diner, Frank realized there were no other cars parked out front, the paint along the sides of the diner was worn, and there was only one light on. The only clue the hole in the wall was open was the smell of coffee and a bleak sign stating 6am to 6pm on the door. _Penny’s Place looks as worn out as I feel,_ Frank mused. Opening the door, both men scanned their surroundings. They heard someone in the kitchen, but no other signs of life. “Looks like this place has seen better days,” Curt murmured.

Frank grunted in agreement as he scanned the walls. There were some old-school diner ads hanging up. An old lottery ticket – scratched and torn oddly enough – hanging in a gold frame above the door to the kitchen. “Typical dive,” Frank thought. Then his eyes fell on a picture above the booth where Curt had taken a seat. The picture was of a family: Wife, husband, and what looked like two adolescent kids. All blonde hair, blue eyes, and smiles. The girl almost looked like – Frank’s breath hitched. He wasn’t seeing things. The girl in the picture was Karen Page. “Holy shit,” he whispered. Curt looked up with a raised eyebrow, “What?” Before Frank could answer, a voice startled them both. “Good morning fellas.” Frank turned to see an older version of the man in the picture standing before him. “Can I get you boys some coffee to start?” “Uh, yes…yes Sir.”

Frank slowly sat down. Curt looked at him intently. “You ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Frank just blinked at him, trying to gather his thoughts. Thankfully, the man reappeared with a pot of coffee. “So, what brings you two to Fagan Corners?” “Just wrapping up a little road trip,” Curt smiled. “Thought we’d take in some local Vermont scenery.” The man laughed, “Well this is more of a tourist trap than a tourist spot, but I’ll be glad for your business.” He looked questioningly at Frank who was gazing up at him as if in shock. After an awkward pause, Frank mumbled. “Nice place you go Sir.” “Paxton Page,” the man smiled, “No need for the Sir.” Frank felt his body go cold. “Uhm…Sir…Paxton. That’s a nice photo of your family.” He gestured to the picture. “Looks like it was taken a while back. Your son ever stop by? Your daughter…” Frank didn’t know how to finish his question. 

Paxton’s face when blank. “My son died thirteen years ago.” 

Frank swallowed, “I’m sorry to hear that. Is your daughter…”

“I don’t have a daughter anymore.” Paxton’s voice was firm. “Excuse me while I go grab you boys some menus.”

Curt stared wide eyed at his friend as Paxton retreated to the kitchen. “What the hell Frank? Why are you playing twenty questions with that poor man?” Frank opened his mouth to answer…

**PIINNG!** A shot pierced the air. Instinctively, both Marines ducked under the table.

“Holy hell!” Frank groaned. Then…silence.

Wordlessly, the friends moved from under the table. Crouching low to the floor, they breathed and waited. No more shots rang out.

“Paxton!” Frank called. No answer. A slow panic began to rise in Frank’s chest. “PAXTON?!” Frank rose and ran into the kitchen. His eyes scanned the scene for any signs of life, and a blast of cool air hit him. He saw the back door open to the dumpster, and Paxton slumped on the step. He was lying in a pool of blood coming from the back of his right shoulder. He was alive, but in shock.

“Christ! Get in here Curt!” Frank kneeled down over the older man’s body. “Hey. Hey! Paxton you’re going to be alright.” There was a low moan. “Stay with me. Please.”

The rest of the day was a blur. Frank barely remembered the ambulance and police arriving. He was too busy scanning the area for any potential threats. He remembered becoming angry as police questioned them. The main one - Chief Bernie or Benny or something - had seemed sincerely worried, but the young guy tagging along with him hadn’t seemed to give to shits as to what happened. “The man was shot! Shouldn’t you be surveying the whole town!” Frank had yelled. Curt had snapped at him to be quiet and cooperate with questioning; Frank vaguely remembered sitting on the diner steps in protest. Thankfully, an older woman had been out walking her dog, and seen a black four-door sedan drive by as Paxton opened the back door of the diner. “I saw Paxton on the steps and then I heard the gun shot! Thank goodness you boys were here,” the woman had cried. Frank was thankful for her too. Her testimony saved him and Curt from too many questions. The last thing Frank needed right now was for someone to pull up his alias Pete Castiglione. He wanted to get away from the cops and look around himself. Whoever shot Paxton could be a threat to Karen, and he wanted to neutralize the threat quickly.

Frank brooded all the way to the hospital, where he and Curt stood watch through the night. (Hospital waiting room chairs were by far more comfortable than sleeping on the desert floor in Iraq.) Frank refused to leave the hospital in case something else happened. Early the next morning, Chief Bernie (that was his name) stopped by. “You boys have been a huge help. You can go.” Curt tried to nudge Frank out of his chair. “It’s time to go Frank. Let the police handle this.”

“Actually,” the chief’s voice cut in. “She may have some questions for you.”

Frank’s pulse sped up as he felt a familiar presence enter the waiting room. 

“Frank?”

He heard her voice, so strong but so tired floating behind him, and turned. Frank looked her up and down. She was beautiful even after a 400-mile car drive: blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, a cable knit sweater hugging her curves, and her eyes: Steel blue and ready to take on whatever mess she’d walked into. He wanted to say so many things; instead, he simply breathed her name. 

“Karen.”


	3. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen and Frank see each other for the first time in five months. It goes as well as can be expected given a long drive and lack of good food on Frank's part. Not to mention Karen's having trouble understanding why Frank just "showed up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Pistanthrophobia: The fear of trusting someone"

“Frank,” Karen said numbly. “Karen,” he repeated looking shocked to see her. For a moment, Karen forgot her surroundings. All of the longing and disappointment from there last meeting seemed to flood her body. She folded her arms and glared at him. “Why are you here?”

Frank flinched at the coldness in her voice; his eyes were bright. Karen tried to push aside the guilt that sprang up inside of her. “ _Now he gets to feel what it’s like to be pushed away_.” Forget the fact that his eyes were full of concern. Forget the fact she felt a sense of relief seeing him there. Forget the part of her subconscious that had wished he’d been sitting beside her on the long drive from New York. “ _This is not his war._ ”

“I” Frank stuttered, “My friend and I were taking a little road trip. We stopped here for food. I…I didn’t know it was your dad. You never told me you were from…”

“HOW could I tell you where I was from!? I didn’t know where you were. YOU made sure of that!” Karen hissed like a feral cat seething with anger.

“Damnit Karen…You know I couldn’t…” Frank swallowed helplessly.

“BULLSHIT! Why are you here?” All of the sudden, Karen heard someone clear their throat. She blushed, remembering they weren’t alone.

“Excuse me ma’am,” the handsome man who’d been blatantly starting at her and Frank go back and forth seemed to take pity on his friend. He offered Karen a firm handshake. “My name’s Curtis. Curtis Hoyle. I’m a buddy of Frank’s from the Corps. We just happened to be in your dad’s diner trying to get some food when this whole thing went down. I’m really sorry; this must be a lot to take in.” He was looking at her with a mixture of sympathy and curiosity. “Thank you, Mr. Hoyle. I really appreciate you calling 9-1-1. Both of you,” she said sincerely. Her eyes shifted back to Frank who was looking at her as though she was a wild animal he needed to handle with care.

Embarrassed, Karen looked down. “I should talk to my dad,” she mumbled. Chief Bernie, who’d been watching the drama unfold, spoke up. “Karen, sweetheart,” he sighed and looked away, “You da-Paxton just…He told me to tell you to go.” Karen felt a familiar sadness well up in the pit of her stomach. “But he was shot. What if he needs help? Can’t I at least read the police report.” The chief shook his head. He couldn’t meet her eyes, and Karen knew why. “Just go Karen. If I’d have known the hospital was going to call you, I’d have told them not to.” Karen took a breath in. “ _I don’t want you here Karen_.” Thirteen years and it still felt like a punch in the stomach.

“Wait. What? Why?” Frank’s voice was cut through her thoughts. “This is his daughter.” Karen closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. “It’s ok Frank,” she whispered. “I’m not his daughter anymore.” Tears began to blur her vision. She pushed past Frank and stepped out of the small waiting room into the cold Vermont air. Leaving the car where it was parked, Karen trudged robotically down the block towards Penny’s Place.

“Karen wait. It could be a trap. Karen! Damn it!” Frank called out. Without a word to Curt, he ran out of the hospital following Karen’s footsteps in the snow. He was thankful everything in the town center was pretty much within walking distance. Karen was a fast walker, and her pace seemed to double now that she wasn’t wearing her typical high heels. Frank cursed silently as he marched towards the diner. “ _Stubborn woman_!” He picked up his pace as he saw Karen’s figure enter the diner. What if it had been a set up? What if someone had wanted Karen to come back to Vermont?

Suddenly, he heard a soft cry. “Karen?” “Damn it!” Frank heard her yell, and then the sound of breaking glass. Heart pounding, he entered Penny’s Place to find Karen standing at the booth he’d been seated at a little over 24 hours ago. She’d taken the family picture and smashed it on the table, breaking glass and cutting her right hand in the process. “Jesus.” Frank grabbed a wad of napkins from a nearby table and gently edged towards Karen. She was crying. As Frank came up beside her, he saw that – somehow – a newspaper clipping had been placed on the table. It read “ _Mystery Accident Causes Teen Death_.” Karen was staring at the clipping and the broken picture frame, shaking quietly and saying, “No. Kevin.”

Frank gently took her right hand and wrapped it in napkins. “C’mere,” he said softly. Karen didn’t fight as Frank took his free arm and wrapped it around her, gently sitting them down in the booth. They sat there for what seemed like hours, Karen laying her head on Frank’s shoulder as he held her, rubbing small circles along her hand with his thumb. Finally, Frank broke the silence.

“Whose Kevin?”

Karen didn’t even bother to lift her head from his shoulder. “My brother…he died in a car crash. I…I was the driver.” Her voice cracked. It seemed she wanted to say more, but couldn’t.

“Karen, it’s going to be ok. We’ll figure out who did this to your dad. I promise.” Karen seemed to stiffen at his words. She slowly sat up. “We? Look, I’m thankful you’re here but…There is no we Frank. You haven’t told me why you’re here.”

Frank pulled back irritated. “What do you mean ‘why you’re here’?” Karen’s eyes had turned – not cold exactly – but hard. As though there was something she wasn’t telling him. “This isn’t your war Frank. I don’t need people barging into my life to play hero when they feel like it.”

Frank recoiled as if she’d slapped him. “I’m not barging in to play hero. Karen this is serious! Why…”

Karen stood up. “It was good to see you Frank. Good luck going back to,” she gestured vaguely in the air, “ **whatever** it is you do these days.” Turning, she walked out of the diner.

Frank stood frozen. He had wanted to tell her that he missed her. That seeing her sobbing over her family’s picture reminded him of how broken he’d felt when he’d lost Maria and the kids. That the thought of someone hurting her broke his heart. Instead, he let annoyance take hold. He shook his head. “You arrogant asshole,” he chided himself. Suddenly, a movement caught his eye; there was a piece of paper blowing slightly in the draft left by the open door. It must have fallen out of Karen’s purse. Picking it up, Frank read the words: _Ms. Page. Everyone must be held accountable for their actions. Your past is coming for you._ _WF._

Shit. Someone was after Karen, and Frank had let her walk out of there unprotected. Rushing out of the diner, he made his way back up the street towards the hospital. Nearing the parking lot he saw Curt standing by the truck. There was no sign of Karen’s car. Curt looked a little sheepish. “She told me to tell you she’s heading back to New York. Her father’s friend, that Chief Bernie, said he’d be taking care of things here.”

“You let her get in her car and leave!” Frank exclaimed, “How do we know she’s…”

Curt held up a hand to silence his friend. “Before you come at me guns blazing, you owe me an explanation as to who she is to you, and why we ate hospital cafeteria food for the last 24 hours.”

Frank nodded. “Ok. I do owe you. Can we just get in the truck and head back. I’ll explain who she is on the drive.”

Curt sighed in protest. “We never got real chow.”

“Screw chow!” Frank snapped, “I need to get back to New York and figure out who’s messing with Karen!”

“Ok,” Curt paused, “But I’m adding breakfast to the long list of I.O.U’s.”


	4. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile back in New York City, Matt and Foggy may have unknowingly stumbled on to a surprising connection between NMP’s case against Todd Less and Karen’s current situation. Matt may also begin to realize that his friends left out certain details of their lives during his post-Defenders disappearance.

Matthew Murdock sighed, trying not to let his irritation show. The morning had NOT gone well. First, he’d been nursing a splitting headache from a run in with some juvenile delinquents last night as Daredevil. Second, he’d arrived at the office to learn no leads had been made on who threw the brick through Karen’s office window. Then thirdly, there was Karen herself: Texting Foggy that she had to make an emergency trip to visit her father. “She could have told me,” Matt mused. He knew their friendship was on thin ice after a LOT of mistakes on his part; however, he felt a twinge of guilt when Karen texted Foggy and not him about leaving the city.

To make matters worse, now he and Foggy were stuck playing legal games with Todd Less, the man trying tear down the local middle school in Hell’s Kitchen to make some new art studio. _“Because the one he has isn’t enough,” Foggy had scoffed. “This guy really is a piece of work.”_ The up and coming art dealer had invited them to his gentrified art gallery – once low-income housing in the neighborhood – to discuss the terms of the lawsuit against him.

Todd was an interesting character. Foggy and Matt had done some thorough research before heading to the meeting: Todd Less was supposedly tall, pale blue eyes, and somewhat gaunt – as though he had lived on the streets. He supposedly bounced around the foster care system in Connecticut and Vermont until he was 18 years-old, then headed to New York City on a scholarship to study fine art at the New York School of the Arts. From that point on, there weren’t too many details about how Todd became a dealer in Middle Eastern artifacts and art. Supposedly, he collected fine art from Oman and other parts of the Middle East, but no records indicate how he got funding. _“This guy has to have connections to the mob,” Matt had mused, “We just have to prove it.”_

Now they stood in Todd’s upstairs office, after going back and forth with his lawyers. “It’s a shame we couldn’t work this out at the lowest level,” Todd cooed, “But I guess my people will see you gentlemen in court.”

“I guess that’s how it will have to be,” Matt said. He noticed a slight increase in Todd’s heart rate. “ _Odd_.” Matt thought.

“By the way, where is the famous Ms. Page of Murdock, Nelson, and Page?” Todd asked.

“She’s taking care of some family business,” Foggy stated offering no further details. Matt could tell from the sound of his voice his friend was as disgusted with Mr. Less as he was.

“Too bad. I was hoping to meet her. She’s a local celebrity in Hell’s Kitchen after working at the Bulletin. Especially given all the chaos that paper experienced in the last year…with all those killings, and two Daredevils, and the Punisher.”

_“What about the Punisher,”_ Matt wondered. He sensed Foggy’s breath hitch.

Todd continued on oblivious of their silence, “Well hopefully I will have the pleasure of meeting Ms. Page at the open house gala my sponsors and I are hosting in a few weeks. Regardless of who wins this lawsuit, I have to foster community. You all will have to come.”

Matt was over it. “Perhaps. We’ll be going now.”

As they turned to leave, Matt heard Foggy give a surprised squeak. He felt his cane tap something more than the tile floor. He stopped, surprised to find his cane lodged on the hem of a long dress. A perfume he knew and hated filled his nostrils…Vanessa Marianna Fisk wife of the Kingpin of Crime was standing in front of him.

“Mr. Murdock,” she purred, “What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t realize you were representing my protégé in legal matters.”

_“Of course Fisk is invested in this snake,”_ Matt thought. Out loud he was curt. “We’re not. We’re on the other side.”

“Oh, such a shame,” Vanessa said sarcastically. “Well I’m sure we will see you around Hell’s Kitchen in one form or another. Such a _blessing_ things are finally coming to order.”

Matt was silent. Foggy piped up, “Well, we will be off.”

He led Matt to the elevator. Once inside, Foggy let out a sigh. “Well, if we weren’t sure about Todd Less having ties to the mob, we know now.”

“Just what we need,” Matt groaned, “Fisk and his wife having another operating base in this city. We have our work cut out for us.”

The two friends were silent for a moment, then Matt turned his head towards Foggy. “I know I was…gone...for a bit, but what did Less mean about the Punisher. Did…did he try to bother you and Karen?”

“No.” Foggy answered a little too quickly, “I’m not sure what he meant about Karen being connected to the Punisher.”

Matt wanted to press his friend further, but the elevator door opened. “Come on. Lunch is on me after that exhausting meeting.”

Foggy laughed, “Then I’m expecting Gallagher’s Steakhouse.”

_________________________________

Vanessa watched from the windows above, as the two friends walked into the street. She lowered the hand previously raised to silence Todd Less from speaking.

“Why did we have to wait to talk? It’s not like they can hear through walls.”

“ _One of them might_ ,” Vanessa muttered. “Now, for the reason I’m here.” Her smile was cold. “A brick through a window?! Are you a child? We didn’t hire you to vandalize property.”

Todd gave a smirk. “With all due respect Mrs. Fisk, your husband said I could have a little fun before I bring him Karen Page.”

“Your fun makes you look like an idiot. That stunt could have drawn the wrong type of attention.”

“It drew just enough attention to shake her up. Being agitated means no one really registers why her father’s attempted shooting isn’t more public.”

Vanessa sighed, “I am impressed at how quickly the incident was covered up.”

Todd laughed, “I have friends on the Fagan Corners PD who don’t forget where they came from or who made them great.”

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed his arrogance. “Just make sure you don’t forget who made you so great. My husband took a chance on you because of recommendations from Schoonover and Billy Russo. You should kiss their graves in thanks you still aren’t freezing in that small town in Vermont!”

Todd grimaced. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

Vanessa smiled as she turned to go. “My work here is done. Oh, and if you’re still mouring the death of your foster brother Billy, you should add Frank Castle to your list of people owed revenge.”

She sauntered out of the room leaving Todd Less to gaze at a stack of article from the Bulletin wondering about the connection between Frank Castle and Karen Page.

_________________________________

100 miles away at a gas station in upstate New York, Karen was wondering the same thing. She should have been wondering why that younger police officer at Fagan Corner PD had been so secretive about the police report and so unhelpful in giving her any updates when she’d called to check on her father. Instead, Karen was thinking about Curtis Hoyle’s words as she left the hospital.

_“I don’t know what kind of self-deprecating BS Frank told you, but it’s obvious after watching him stare at you for all of two seconds: He really cares about you.”_

Karen had kept a stiff upper lip then, but driving home she secretly hoped Curt was right. She could still close her eyes and feel Frank’s arms around her. Hear his voice telling her it would be ok. It was…

The ringing of her phone brought Karen back to the present. It went to voicemail before she could grab it, partly because Karen was surprised by the name on the caller ID: Dinah Madani. Why was Homeland Security calling her now?

“Hi Karen. It’s Dinah.” The message carried Madani’s strong, assertive voice. “Look, I…I know we haven’t spoken in a while, but I promised…OUR mutual friend…I’d keep tabs on your work at the Bulletin. I’ve been following your case against Todd Less, and I may have some information that makes him valuable to you and Homeland Security. I wanted to share it with you…off the record. Maybe we could meet Saturday night. Call me back and let me know.”

Karen stared at her phone. A brick through her window. Her father shot. Seeing Frank. Now Dinah was calling her. Things were starting to get pretty complicated.


	5. I.O.U's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank calls on an old friend in his quest to find out more about the mystery centering around Karen. He’s also realizes he’s been missing out on a lot of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “do u ever just realize wow I’m gonna miss this moment while ur actually living it” ~ Anonymous

Frank felt a mixture of unease and anticipation as he drove down the quiet suburban street towards David Lieberman’s house. He’d made the choice to distance himself from the Lieberman family for their own safety; but after the long drive back to New York with Curt, he realized he had some apologies to make. Echoes of Curt’s thorough ass chewing floated around in his head as he drove:

_“So, you’re telling me this smart, strong, absolutely beautiful woman stepped in to save you from the death penalty. She knows all of your messed-up shit. Yet, you push her away?!” Curt had stared at Frank as though he was being particularly stupid._

_“It’s not that simple,” Frank had snapped, “Look at me. Look at what I do Curt. Karen’s good. She doesn’t need to be in the middle of my mess.”_

_Curt had rolled his eyes. “There you go again.”_

_“What? There I go what?”_

_“You push people away because you say ‘Oh no. I’m the Punisher. Nobody can be with the Punisher.’ The truth is you’re scared. You’re scared to feel loss again. Well, I’ve got a wakeup call for you: I’ve read Karen Page’s articles. Been keeping tabs on it since that whole bomb with Lewis went off. That woman will charge head on into danger if she thinks it’s for the right cause. You NOT being in her life won’t change that fact. The only thing being absent WILL do is make you the person that people WON’T call when they need support!”_

_Frank had winced, feeling like Curt was speaking for himself as well as Karen._

_Curt looked over at him with a sigh. “Look brother…I didn’t mean that. I…”_

_“No,” Frank felt something welling up in his throat. “I needed to hear it. This past few years has been all about me and my bullshit…Look Curt, the truth is I am scared. I’m not sure I know how to let people in anymore. But…seeing Karen at the diner…her crying…. I…” he couldn’t finish. “I realize I’ve got to deal with being scared. Losing Maria and the kids almost killed me, but then she walked in and…I realized I am alive whether I want to be or not. People like you and Karen; you force me to feel again. So, I owe you. I owe Karen too, even if she never wants to speak to me again. I need to make sure whoever shot at her father doesn’t get to her.”_

_Curt had given him a small smile, “Ok. Guess we have a mystery to solve.”_

_“You don’t have to get caught up in my…”_

_“I already am brother,” Curt was firm. “For one, I kind of like seeing Frank Castle get put in his place by a woman like that. Secondly, you still owe me breakfast.”_

Shaking his head to clear the memory, Frank pulled into the Lieberman’s driveway. He looked to his passenger seat at the bottle of rose and the chocolate chip cookies from the market down the street. He hoped he’d picked up the right stuff. Maria had always been the one to buy gifts for dinner parties. Heck, he’d been deployed so much he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been to a dinner with other families. 

“ _You can do this,”_ he said to himself, _“You’ve raided buildings in Afghanistan. Walked into rooms full of mobsters. You can sit at dinner with your friends and apologize for shutting them out for so long.”_

As Frank walked up to the door, he couldn’t help but smile as he heard Leo’s voice ring out. “Dad! Pete is here!!!” (David had coached the kids to use Frank’s alias as a precaution.) Within a few seconds, David “Micro” Lieberman opened the door. Frank felt a jolt of familial pride – an odd thing to feel with a civilian – as he looked at David. The man’s hair was unruly, but he’d trimmed his beard and was wearing ironed clothes. Still, he looked like a guy who spent most of his time staring at a computer.

“Well,” David smiled a warm smile, “You look like you’ve beaten up one to many thugs.”

“You look like you never left that basement,” Frank shot back.

David laughed and gave Frank a slap on the back. “It’s good to see you. Come on in.”

Frank felt a small flicker of happiness walking into the house. Sarah gave him a huge hug and conspiratory wink as she opened the bottle of rose. Leo and Zach ran up to Frank talking over each other to get his attention and fight for the cookies. For the next few hours, Frank felt as close to normal as he had in a long time. He listened intently to the kids talk about school, and asked Sarah and David about their work. It surprised him to learn that David does some hacking and aerial monitoring for Dinah Madani at Homeland Security. 

“We came to an agreement,” David explained, “Dinah allows me to do some work from home given my skill set, which allows me to stay as far away from Homeland’s bureaucratic BS as possible.” 

The Lieberman’s knew not to discuss Frank’s activities in front of the kids, and he found it oddly refreshing. For a moment, Frank wondered what it would be like to do this regularly. To have dinner with friends and not worry about some low life he’d pissed off in Hell’s Kitchen. To not look over his shoulder. To bring Karen over dinner. He tried to suppress that last thought, but an image of Karen sitting with them at the table kept popping into his mind. 

After a few rounds of Monopoly, Sarah ushered the kids up to bed while David took Frank down to his very heavily secured basement office. 

“Still digging the whole basement life,” Frank quipped. “You have enough child locks on the door to makes sure nobody ever breaks in.”

David scoffed, “It gives me the space I need to Madani’s work. She’s still miffed you turned down her job offer. Told me I had to notify her if you ever come knocking on my door in case you were trying to edge in on one of Homeland’s cases.” He paused, giving Frank a questioning glance, “I’d say I’m flattered you came by, but given the fact that the only communication I’ve gotten from you in the past 8 months or so was when I’d email you Bulletin news articles…I’d guess this isn’t a purely social call.”

Frank nodded a bit sheepishly. God, he’d been a lousy friend. “It’s not 100% a social call, and I’m sorry for that. For the longest time I….”

“Wanted to shy away from as much human contact as possible,” David said with only a trace of sarcasm.

“Yeah,” Frank sighed, “I owe you more than ghost emails. I’m…sorry I haven’t been around.”

“Hey,” David shrugged, “It’s ok. I’m just glad to see you’re alive and well. You’ll just owe Sarah and I a monthly Monopoly night to make up for lost time.”

“I’d like that,” Frank gave a half smile.

The two men were silent for a moment, and then David cleared his throat. “Soooo, what’s the not social part of this call about. You realize I have to walk a fine line because of Madani.”

Frank pulled out the slip of paper he’d picked up off the floor of Penny’s Place. He handed it to David silently. “What the hell?” David said reading it over. 

The worry Frank had been holding in boiled over. He told David everything that had happened at the diner. His voice shook describing Karen’s reaction when her father wouldn’t see her. “I just don’t get what could be going on. W.F. has to be Wilson Fisk, but he’d got beef with Mur-uh- the Daredevil. Why would he care about anything in Karen’s past?”

David looked at the paper, lost in thought. “I know Murdock and Nelson put Fisk in prison once BEFORE the term he’s serving now. The news had mentioned Karen was their paralegal at the time.” He turned to his computer and began typing away frantically. After a few moments, he stopped. “Odd. Looking at the FBI backlogs, there’s a video that was deleted from their main server. It’s from…2017 or 2018. Probably when Fisk was on house arrest. Why would it be deleted?”

Frank moved closer to David and the computer. He felt his heart skip a beat as David selected play on the video. Frank saw an image of Karen, looking determined, angry and scared shitless. She was glaring at the imposing Wilson Fisk. They were standing across one another at a fancy table that must have been in Fisk’s home. As the video played, Frank began to feel sick to his stomach.

 _“I shot him,” Karen said definitely._ “Ease up Karen,” Frank whispered. _“I shot James Wesley seven times because that’s all that was in the goddamn clip. He deserved more!”_ Frank felt his head spinning as he watched Fisk lunge at Karen. “NO!” Then he slammed his hand on the desk (much to David’s chagrin) as an image of Foggy Nelson and a slew of FBI agents appeared on the screen. The video went black.

“Wow. Just. Wow.” David stuttered. He glanced at Frank whose face was white.

“I don’t understand how the FBI could have let Fisk go back to prison. That SOB should be dead. He admitted to having her kidnapped. And how did Nelson get in the mix?”

“Maybe he guessed what Karen was going to do, and acted like he was with Fisk to help,” David mused. 

“She could have been killed.” Frank panted. “I should have been there. This was around the time I…fuck!” He cursed in frustration and shame.

David looked at Frank, feeling a pang of sympathy at the bewilderment on his friend’s face. “Frank, you were caught up in your own battles. Like or not, life goes on even when we’re not with the people we care about. I know you want to figure this out, but maybe you need to TALK to Karen first. Playing hero won’t mean a thing to her if you’re just planning on leaving once everything is figured out.”

Frank blinked rapidly. “I know you’re right, but what am I supposed to say? ‘Hey sorry I kept leaving you after you saved my ass, but you wanna get some coffee and talk about it?’ I don’t know how to…to tell a woman I care about her anymore. I don’t know where to start.”

David smiled. “Actually, asking her to talk over coffee could be a good place to start. Trust me, it’s no fun being vulnerable. When I told Sarah all about my being Micro, she was pissed. Like scary angry. We worked through it though; partly because we took some time to just be ourselves and connect. There’s always going to be ugliness in the world; sometimes you have to take a quick break from it.”

Frank nodded, letting David’s words sink in as his friend continued to type.

After a few moments, David broke the silence. “Hmm…nothing since then. I do see that Nelson, Murdock, and Page have been investigating some guy named Todd Less. Looks like Fisk’s wife may be one of his sponsor’s in the art world. I’ll see what other information I can find.”

“Thanks David. I appreciate it.”

David looked at Frank sternly, “Just promise me you’ll talk to her. That’s an add on to the Monopoly games you owe me.”

“Ok.” Frank breathed. “Ok.”

______________________________________________

Meanwhile, at Rikers Detention Center a man by the name of Todd Less gazed coolly across the visitation room across at the imposing Wilson Fisk. 

“Mr. Less,” Fisk said dryly, “How considerate of you to finally check in with me.”

“I’ve been busy getting things ready for your wife’s little charity bash,” Less quipped.

Fisk was not amused. “It’s Mrs. Marianna Fisk to you. And maybe you can find time in your schedule to bring me what you promised.”

Less paused. “Don’t worry Wilson,” he said with a note of confidence that Fisk found very annoying. “The money is coming out of Oman and Afghanistan. My sources…”

Fisk raised a hand to silence him. “I’m not talking about the money. I’m talking about Karen Page. I told you to have some “fun”, but I want her dead sooner rather than later.”

Todd sneered. “No need to worry. Her death will be the grand finale to the party that Mrs. Fisk and I have planned.”

Fisk gave a cold smile. “Very well. I look forward to it.”


	6. Night Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lead on Todd Less and Wilson Fisk leads Frank to a pizza parlor near Karen’s apartment. Of course, he’ll show up at her door bloody.

Frank parked the old van by the Lincoln Tunnel, and walked to the pizza parlor on foot. _Mario’s_ was the name. It was a non-descript building with a neon slice of pizza that lit up in the window and a faded sign. Perfect for drunk college kids and yuppies at midnight on a Wednesday. It was also two blocks from Karen’s apartment. Frank briefly wondered if she ever stopped to grab pizza here after a late night at the office. He hoped not, given what David had called to tell him.

_“I don’t know if it’s got anything to do with Karen, but I did some digging into Todd Less’s accounts. It looks like this pizza place called Mario’s might be the site of some money laundering between him and Vanessa Fisk. I keep seeing a statement that the owner of Mario’s transfers money to Todd Less, and he transfers to Mrs. Fisk.”_

How David found this stuff was a mystery to Frank, but he was a good spook. Frank decided to do some recon. If Wilson Fisk was the one trying to scare Karen and this Less guy was at all involved, Frank wanted to know. 

Frank got a bad feeling when he walked in the dingy pizza joint a minute past 12am. He saw a short, burly man in a black stocking cap in the back booth. He had a pizza box on the table, but it was unopened. He was talking on his cell phone in a lazy manner. Frank’s ability to tread silently meant the guy didn’t even hear him step in the door.

“Yeah that blonde reporter the boss is so nuts about,” the thug was saying casually. “Told me to deliver the package to her. Too bad I can’t get my turn with this Page broad. Looking at her picture, I’d sure give her **more** than a special delivery.”

Frank felt his sense of alert kick into overdrive at the man’s words. He silently walked over to the table. Before his target realized it, Frank was putting two hands around his neck. “I wouldn’t go near her if I were you.” he growled.

He almost didn’t see the gleam of mettle at the man’s thigh.

* * *

Kare _n felt the cool steel of .380 in her hand. “Kevin,” she screams. “Stop Todd!” She pushes him off of her little brother. “Fuck you!” Todd Nieman screams as he falls to the ground. Karen raises the .380. Points at his shoulder. Click goes her safety and “Ahhh!”_

Karen lunges awake with a gasp. It takes a moment for her to orient herself. She’s in her own bed. Back in New York after that god-awful drive. Looking at the clock, Karen groans. It’s only 1am on a Thursday morning. 

Ever since returning from Vermont on Tuesday night, she’d been on edge. First, there was the fact that the Fagan Corners Police Department continued to refuse to provide any details on who may have shot her father. Second, she’d had a hard time downplaying the whole thing to Foggy and Matt at work the next day. They’d both been genuinely concerned. 

Foggy kept asking, “Did he fall? Because a broken bone can cause long term complications in people over 65.” He also kept bugging her about her hand. “You cut it moving some stuff in the diner to help him? What kind of stuff? Kitchen equipment?” 

If Foggy fluttering around like a mother hen didn’t make Karen feel guilty, Matt’s odd cross examination of who she spent her time with sure did. He’d been sly about it, beginning the conversation by telling her about their run in with Todd Less and Vanessa Marianna Fisk. Then he dropped the bomb, “Todd mentioned hearing your name from your work at the Bulletin. He said you were…acquainted with the Punisher.” Karen had frozen at the mention of Frank’s vigilante name. “Well, a lot of crazy stuff was going on with this young, troubled, veteran named Lewis. He was part of a veterans support group that Fra—Mr. Castle allegedly attended.” Matt had continued to stare at her so intently that Karen wondered if he could read minds. “So, you haven’t seen the Punisher since?” Karen thought to their argument in the hospital five months ago, and Frank holding her as she cried at Penny’s Place. “No, I haven’t seen the Punisher.” It wasn’t technically a lie: He’d simply been Frank both of those times with her even if he was too stubborn to realize it. She wasn’t lying to Matt or Foggy, but she wasn’t actually telling her friends the truth either. 

Karen had hoped a good night’s sleep would ease her mind, but now she was up. “ _At least I didn’t dream about Wilson Fisk,_ ” she thought ruefully. That didn’t help much. Whoever tried to mess with her father was connected to Fisk…and where had that slip of paper gone anyway? Karen worried that her father’s shooting was only the beginning: Fisk could easily hunt down her family like Foggy, Matt, Ellison, even Frank – Karen chided herself for allowing Frank to appear in her thoughts yet again, but if Fisk ever knew how she felt about him… _How_ did she feel about him anyway?

She decided to get out of bed and look over her piece for Ellison since she was wide awake. She was supposed to meet him at 3pm Thursday afternoon, so it was better to be prepared. Looking out the window, she noticed police lights in the distance. Not uncommon for her neighborhood, so Karen sat down to type without another thought.

About five minutes in, there was a soft knock at the door. Karen almost jumped out of her skin. Holding her breath, she slinked to the nightstand where she kept her .380. Silence. Maybe she was imagining things? 

There was another knock.

Trying to keep her breathing in check, Karen peeked through the peep hole of her door. Her heart dropped at what she saw: Frank Castle standing outside of her door with what appeared to be a pizza box in his hand…and a giant bloodied gash above his eyebrow. Quietly opening the door, Karen gaped at him. “Frank…what are you doing here?”

Frank’s eyes were bright; he looked…relieved to see her. “Karen. I... I’m glad you’re here,” he panted.

“Get inside,” Karen hissed as she realized the Punisher was standing outside her door with blood running down his face. Frank quietly stepped in.

For a moment they just looked at each other. Karen couldn’t help but remember the last time he surprised her outside of her apartment…and the white roses…and the hug. Shaking her head to free herself of the memory, Karen jumped into action. “Let me get the first aid kit.”

“You don’t have to,” Frank rasped as though he hadn’t used his voice all day or had just been screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Tough. I won’t have you bleeding all over my apartment,” Karen said as she walked into the bathroom. After putting her gun away, she returned with a rather large first aid kit, to find Frank awkwardly hugging the pizza box to his chest. He was gazing around the room as though in awe. “Your place is really…cozy,” he murmured. “I didn’t pick up on that the last time I was here.”

“You mean for the five minutes and half a beer,” she snapped even though the word “cozy” made her ache a bit inside. “Sit down on the couch so I can take a look at that cut.”

“Yes ma’am.” A true Marine, Frank did as he was ordered. Karen willed herself not to blush as she stood over Frank. Karen was tall even without her usual heels, and with Frank seated his head was perfectly in line with her torso, his face almost grazing her chest. In some small corner of her mind, Karen remembered the black tank top she’d gone to bed in was a very sheer material…part of her wondered if Frank registered that fact. She realized he must as his gaze moved from her torso back to her face quickly; there was a gleam in his eye that made Karen’s handshake for second. 

“Ok,” she said applying antiseptic. “I’m going to have to stich you up.” 

“You do this often?” he quipped. “Pretty large first aid kit.”

“When you lived with my father you got lots of practice,” Karen said half-jokingly. She began deftly threading above his eyebrow, smiling when he winced. “Am I too rough for you?” she joked.

“You can be rough with me any day,” Frank fired back causing them both to blush. 

They were both silent for a moment, and then Karen realized she was practically in Frank’s lap. She backed away folding her arms across her chest. Frank stood up looking sheepish.

“Sooo,” Karen searched for words, “You were out for pizza and decided to stop by?”

Frank took a deep breath. “Yeah. Sort of…I was doing some recon at the place down the street from you.”

“Mario’s,” Karen said dryly, “And you fought someone for the last slice of pepperoni?”

Frank’s eyes gleamed, angry at the memory. “I walked in and heard someone mention you. The guy said it all: blonde, reporter, your name. He was talking on the phone. Said his boss had a special delivery for you. I didn’t like the sound of it, so I confronted him.”

“You did what?!” Did you…is he like stuck in your murder wagon?” Karen was partly amazed and terrified.

Frank scoffed, “I don’t have a _murder wagon_.”

“Then where is this mystery pizza man?”

Frank’s gaze grew stern. “Damnit Karen. Now is not the time to be all sarcastic. He was coming to YOUR apartment. I cornered him and asked him what his deal was with you. He told me to go… you know f-myself. When I wouldn’t let him leave the booth he was sitting in, he took a swing at me with his knife.”

For a second, Karen felt a swell of pride that Frank stood up for her. It was quickly replaced by guilt. “God Frank. I’m sorry. Thank you for…for caring about me.”

Frank’s gaze softened. “I always care about you.”

Karen swallowed and looked away. “Guess there’s no pizza in there.” She edged towards the counter where the pizza box lay. “Karen,” Frank’s voice was pleading, but before he could stop her, she opened the box. 

“No,” she softly whimpered. Inside the box was a newspaper clipping stating “ _James Wesley’s Found Dead: Wilson Fisk’s Right Hand Man the Subject of Homicide.”_ The clipping was from a time Karen wanted to forget. There were also a few polaroid’s in the box. They looked like pictures of Karen from her senior year of high school. Someone had written in sharpie over the images: DRUG DEALER, MURDER, WHORE.

Karen felt her body shaking uncontrollably. For a moment she was lightheaded, like she might pass out. “No. No. I don’t want to remember. I didn’t mean to…”

“Hey,” Frank’s voice seemed far off, but Karen registered him pull her into his arms. “Breathe Karen. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

Tears were streaming down Karen’s face. She hated losing it like this in front of anyone, but especially Frank. What would he think if he knew the extent of her past? She would represent all of the horrible types of people he fought against. That thought made her sob even harder.

“Shhh. It’s ok,” Frank murmured. “I…I don’t know who is playing these mind games with you, but we’re going to find out.”

Karen looked up at him. Part of her wanted to let him in so badly, to let him know who she really was, and why she’d always understood he wasn’t a monster.

 **BRRNG!** Karen’s phone broke them apart. She glanced at her cell lying beside the pizza box. DETECTIVE BRETT MAHONEY read the caller ID.

“Why is he calling,” Karen murmured. All of the sudden, a voice echoed down the hallway. “Karen!?” Her phone continued to ring.

Frank tensed up. “I may have left out the part where the guy pulled out his gun at me after I knocked the knife out of his hands.”

“Karen?” The voice was getting closer.

“Christ,” Karen hissed. “You shot him inside Mario’s, didn’t you?”

“He pulled a gun on me when I said your name,” Frank hissed back.

There was a knock at the door. “Karen? It’s Brett Mahoney.” Frank tensed up, ready to go to battle. 

“Hell no,” Karen whispered, “Use the fire escape and get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you – “Frank began.

“And I’m not having you arrested by NYPD in my apartment. We will talk later. GO.”

Frank looked at her earnestly. “We can talk. You promise?”

“Yes, find me later. Just go.”

Frank nodded and moved towards the window. “Ok. I’ll come for you.” He slid out without another word.

Brett’s knocking had increased. “Karen!”

Shaking, Karen opened the door. “This couldn’t wait until morning?” Brett stood in front of her with an intent look on his face.

“I’m not here to play games. I got a call that the Punisher was in a shoot-out at Mario’s. PD on the scene thought they saw him run in this direction.”

Karen prayed she looked pissed off. “And you’re waking me because?”

Brett scoffed. “Because every time I run into Castle, YOU seem to be close by.” He peered around her shoulder.

Karen stepped up. “Brett, I respect you, but if you want to search my apartment you better damn well have a warrant.”

Brett sighed. “Shit. Karen, I’m sorry. I have no right to enter your place He was…he was just so close!”

Karen relaxed a bit. “Hope everything’s ok back at Mario’s. I liked their pizza.”

Brett gave her a searching look. “Have you been crying?”

“No…no…no. I have a cold.”

Brett nodded and began to turn away. “Hope you feel better. Sorry about calling you in the middle of the night.”

Karen smiled, “You’re just doing your job.”

Brett shook his head as he walked away. He paused at the end of the hall. “Oh, by the way…you should close your window. The draft probably doesn’t help your _cold_.”

* * *

Frank remained on Karen’s rooftop watching as NYPD parked a few cops around the building. He wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight. Not with NYPD and a potential stalker nearby. 

He felt angry at himself. “ _You should have shot the guy and left with that box. All you did by coming to her was scare her.”_

Still, Frank realized he wanted to see Karen. Ever since the talk at David’s. He knew he couldn’t avoid this feeling inside of him anymore. It was Karen’s bravery in the face of ugliness; her kindness even when he’d been a complete asshole…and that tank top. There was a small corner of Frank’s mind where he kept his Karen Page related fantasies. That tank top was now added to the mix.

He breathed to bring himself back to the present. He knew he had to see Karen again. For tonight, he would happily sleep on her roof to ensure there were no more night calls.


	7. Newsroom Gossip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen becomes the object of speculation at the Bulletin when white roses appear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who can guess what Marvel comic the guest star J Jonah Jameson is from?

“You need a cup of that black tar Angie’s been brewing in the breakroom?” Ellison asked as he peered at Karen over his computer. “You look exhausted.”

Karen forced a laugh; she knew the dark circles under her eyes were on display for all to see. Damn having a fair completion. She sighed, “I had a…long night working on some leads for a case.” She searched Ellison’s face as he read over her article.

“Well, your hard work paid off kid. This is the kind of news I’ve missed around here. Shame the school’s caving into that sleazebag Todd Less. Hell’s Kitchen needs more parks not art galleries.”

Karen nodded, “Yeah, Matt and Foggy weren’t too happy to get that news this morning. We lost a client. I keep wondering if the school superintendent didn’t get a pay off.” She yawned again. Coming to work to learn their case against Todd Less was closed was just one more piece of troublesome news. 

The first bad news of the day had been walking out of her apartment to see that Brett had casually posted cops on various corners around her neighborhood. There was no doubt in Karen’s mind Brett was hoping Frank would find his way back to her place. Frank was good at lying low, but Karen worried it would mean radio silence for a while. She tried to squash the memory of him looking at her and saying, _“We can talk. You promise…”,_ yet it stayed with her throughout the morning. Between worrying about Frank and trying to hide any mention of her 1am visitors to Matt and Foggy, Karen had practically run out of NMP and to the Bulletin.

She’d been anxious at first, unsure of how she would be received. The word MURDER kept floating around in her head along with visions of the newsroom massacre. Thankfully, her former colleagues greeted her with smiles… even though some people seemed a little too gleeful. Angie at the front desk seemed to have a playful look in her eye when Karen entered saying, “Ellison’s been waiting to talk to you.” Karen had the distinct sense there was a secret she hadn’t been let in on but credited it to the growing paranoia she was feeling from the past week. Standing in Ellison’s office she felt more grounded; she felt a sense of belonging.

“Yeah,” Ellison was murmuring, eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. “I’ll run the story.” Karen felt a sense of pride swell in her chest. “Thanks Ellison. I’m happy to help.” He looked up at her. “Well, I’d love to have you back full time, but Nelson and Murdock may sue me,” he said fondly. Karen laughed. “Well, the extra money I make writing on the side pays our tab at Josie’s so they’re ok with it. Most of our clients pay with chicken soup or apple pie.” 

Ellison chuckled, “Maybe some of your clients can buy you a company car. Thanks for returning mine in one piece. How was everything in Vermont?”

Karen swallowed. “It was ok.”

“Did you hurt your hand there?” She looked at Ellison, surprised he’d noticed the bandage she’d wrapped around her hand given that she had her long-sleeved tweed coat over it. “I’ve been a reporter for over 15 years Karen. I notice the little details.” His voice held a note of concern.

Karen blushed. “Yeah, I cut myself cleaning some stuff for my dad.” She wasn’t sure what else to say.

Ellison studied her a moment, his eyes taking on the same gleam as Angie’s. “Well, I may have something that will cheer you up.” Karen eyed him warily, “I don’t know if I can handle whiskey at 3:30 in the afternoon.” He shook his head with a playful smile. “It’s nothing like that…it’s just that somebody must not realize you don’t work here full time anymore.”

Karen felt her stomach drop. _“Oh god. What if it’s a repeat of the pizza box.”_

Ellison bent over to grab something from under his desk. Straightening he smirked, “You have a secret admirer.” Karen’s stomach twisted again, but the feeling wasn’t unpleasant this time. Ellison held a small bouquet of white roses in his hand. Tucked in the bouquet was a small envelope. Only **one** person had ever given her white roses. 

Wordlessly, she took the envelope and read the handwritten note inside. _“I’m sorry I woke you at 1am, but I needed to make sure you were safe. I know you can take care of yourself, but you promised we could talk. Saturday, 8am at the old spot. Please.”_ Karen felt a giddy smile spreading across her face. She could almost hear Frank’s voice in that note. She looked up realizing Ellison was staring at her with a smug look on his face.

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

Karen scoffed, “There is no guy. No guy. Nope. Not happening.” Yet, she held the flowers gingerly as if they could break at any moment.

“Besides being a reporter who notices details, I’ve been married over 20 years. I remember what courting used to be like. Still like to give the wife flowers every now and then.”

“Considering you just called it _courting_ , I’m not sure you’re an expert on this matter.” Karen was trying to joke, but her heart and head felt like they were at war. Her heart wanted desperately to see Frank again; her head was telling her to tread carefully. What if he was just looking for another war to fight, and her mystery stalker-pizza-delivery-possible-shooter was in his sights? Then again, what if he really did care? Could she risk telling him the full details of Kevin’s death and her father’s anger? Risk telling him about James Wesley.

Ellison broke her thoughts. “So, if there’s no guy, what’s the big deal? Those flowers won’t bite.” 

Karen flushed stuttering, “Even if there was a guy…we…I…I tried, and it didn’t work out…and…and now is not the right time.” She was thinking out loud and Ellison knew it.

“Karen,” he said softly, “You know how many times my wife and I have hurt each other? Or had to put our emotions out there when it wasn’t the _right_ time. Hundreds. When you love somebody, you work through those moments. This guy is putting himself out on the line. Give him a chance.” 

Karen was silent as Frank’s voice filled her head. 

“ _I know you can take care of yourself, but you promised we could talk.”_

_“It looks like this isn’t your first rodeo.”_

_“Look I know you. Alright. You’re strong. You’re brave. But you are so goddamn stubborn.”_

Frank didn’t always agree with her, but he believed in her. That belief gave Karen hope that maybe SHE was worthy of having an “after” as well.

Karen looked up at Ellison who was patiently waiting for her to end her internal debate. He was smiling, and in that moment, Karen allowed herself to feel a little rush of joy as she held Frank’s roses. “Ok Ellison. I’ll give him a chance.”

* * *

Ellison watched through the window as Karen walked away, clearly on cloud nine. Being a reporter and unofficially giving himself the title of Karen’s adopted-dad, Mitchell Ellison told himself it was ok that he had gently opened the envelope to read the note tucked inside prior to Karen’s arrival. That girl had been dragged into too much shit in the past year, and he felt protective of her. The notes contents had left Ellison with mixed feelings. On one hand it seemed sincere; whoever had written it clearly cared for Karen. On the other hand, who was waking Karen up at 1am. A smitten informant? An old boyfriend? Why did they need to make sure she was safe?

Ellison’s thoughts were broken by the phone ringing. “Hey Mitch; it’s J. Jonah Jameson,” came the voice of his competitors at the Daily Bugle. “Hey JJ,” Ellison sighed, _“How I loathe this man.”_

“So, I got an anonymous call today about a cold case…Remember when James Wesley was found dead? Guy on the line said I should look into Karen Page’s activities around that time. Said he had a video that could bring this case back out in the open. You know I’m all about calling out those loonies running around in masks, but Page was one of yours…and I know last year was hell for the Bulletin. I wouldn’t be able to rest my conscience if I threw one of our own under the bus for no reason. If you want the story, it’s yours. I told the guy to call me back next week.”

Ellison was silent for a moment. _“What the hell? Could this be what that mystery guy is referring to?_ ” Out loud he tried to keep his voice neutral. “Well, JJ you and I know there are a lot of loonies out there. They read a name in a paper and develop some sick fascination. Still, I…I’d like to take a look at it. Let me know when the guy calls you back.” The rest of Thursday was a blur as Ellison’s mind kept returning to that phone call.

He couldn’t break away from the office early enough to call Karen about it, and Friday was no better. Friday evening, he made his way to Josie’s after work. Ellison hoped Karen and her two lawyer friends would be there. Walking into the dimly lit bar, he spied Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson and the girl he assumed was Foggy’s girlfriend Marci. Foggy waved him over with a grin.

“Good to see you Ellison! Out for a night on the town?”

“No, just hoping to find Karen here with you all. I wanted to talk to her about…a story.”

“She didn’t come along tonight,” Foggy explained. “Said she had an errand early tomorrow.”

Ellison felt a twinge of curiosity. _“She didn’t tell her friends about the flowers.”_ Out loud he said, “Oh well. I’ll catch up with her later. Shame about your case and the school.”

Matt spoke up. “We’re not finished with Todd Less yet. Something’s not right but will figure it out. Karen will have another story for you soon.”

“Here’s hoping,” Ellison tried to keep his voice casual. “Hey…so who is the mystery guy grabbing Karen’s attention.” He was met with blank stares. 

“There’s no guy,” Murdock said confidently. “She’d tell us. Maybe an informant?”

“Well someone sent her flowers to her old office.”

“Oooh,” the girl on Foggy’s arm cooed. “That’s totally a guy.”

Matt shook his head. “Karen would tell us. Your secretary was probably confused.”

 _“Cocky bastard,”_ Ellison thought. “Well, thought I’d see if you all had any good gossip. Better head home to the Mrs.” As he turned to leave, Foggy piped up. “I’m going to grab another round. I’ll walk with you.”

The two men headed towards the bar, but Foggy motioned for Ellison to follow him outside. Once they were well down the street, Foggy stopped. His face was uneasy. “Ellison…what kind of flowers were sent to Karen?”

“White roses. Why?”

“Karen isn’t the type to get flowers for herself, but…I noticed white roses in her apartment last year. It was around the time of the whole Lewis-thing that went down at that hotel. “Foggy let his words die, but he and Ellison both knew what he hadn’t mentioned: That was around the time Frank Castle made his appearance in Karen’s life again.

Ellison nodded. “Thanks Nelson. That’s helpful to know. I’ll…keep my eye out for any more flower deliveries.” Foggy gave a small nod and turned back towards the bar leaving Ellison more puzzled than before. Maybe he’d take a walk in Hell’s Kitchen Saturday morning…just to see if there was any more gossip.


	8. Coffe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Karen take a break from their lives to enjoy a little coffee, and those around them realize something more than caffeine is brewing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The Cure, David Bowie, EarthWind&Fire, Snow Patrol, and the Beatles were playing during this chapter. My internal soundtrack for their coffee date was all over the place lol.)

Frank sat on the bench waiting. He tried to focus on anything: people walking by, the sun gleaming off the water, boats on the Hudson. Anything to calm his nerves. He’d been feeling excited, and anxious, and on edge since Thursday evening when he’d seen the roses.

He’d woken up Thursday morning on Karen’s rooftop bound and determined to find a way to talk to her. Taking in the neighborhood from high above, Frank noted that Brett still had cops stationed every few blocks. Reappearing at Karen’s apartment wouldn’t be possible; besides, that was a stunt the Punisher would pull. Franks was honest enough with himself to realize he didn’t just want to be “the Punisher” to Karen. Not anymore. Not after seeing her in that diner. The realization unnerved him, but it also gave him a small sense of hope. 

He’d thought about how he could communicate with her without letting Brett on to anything. He didn’t have her phone number any more after switching out one to many burner phones. Then he remembered the first time he’d visited this particular apartment: Seeing Karen on the street, the white roses, the hug. White roses could work. He remembered that Maria had always appreciated the gesture of flowers after they had hit a rough patch. Peonies would always be Maria, but white roses…Those were Karen. They were pure in a city full of muck. Plus, they’d used white roses to communicate before; surely Karen would know it was him. He could deliver them to the Bulletin, far from Brett’s prying eyes.

It was almost 1pm by the time Frank had made his way down from the roof, found a florist, and delivered the flowers to the Bulletin. (The lady at the front desk had been too eager to accept the flowers and potential gossip to actually register that Frank wasn’t from some delivery service. It worked in his favor since no one asked about the stiches over his eye.) Frank realized he had no way of contacting Karen to see if she’d received the roses, so he returned to his industrial excuse for a home to change. Then he began his run along the river. He weaved in and out of different blocks of the city making his way towards Karen’s apartment. Frank felt confident that Brett wouldn’t expect the Punisher to be on a run at 8pm along the Hudson. 

Running the path he knew so well, Frank seemed to sprout wings when he looked up at Karen’s window to see his roses resting gently in a vase and prominently on display. _“She understands. She’ll be there.”_ He’d felt such a strong surge of elation that he failed to notice someone tailing him on his run…until a voice behind him said, “What are you doing in this neighborhood Castle?” 

Frank turned to find the Daredevil standing in the alley mean mugging him. _“Ridiculous clown costume,”_ he scoffed inwardly. “Hello to you too Red. I’m going for a run. What’s it to you?”

“I heard you were in this area around 1am. Heard about the shootout at Mario’s. Some thugs I tailed last night were mentioning that Fisk is tied to that place. Why are YOU interested in Fisk?” 

Red’s voice held a note of curiosity Frank couldn’t place, but at that moment he didn’t care. Some primal part of his brain was chanting “ _My flowers are in her window.”_ He couldn’t keep the swagger out of his voice. “Well Red, seeing as how YOU weren’t here last night: It’s none of your business.”

Red clenched his fists. “Why are you hanging around here Castle?”

Frank felt another surge of pride course through him. Red didn’t realize that Frank knew where Karen lived. “Like I said: None of your business.” His inner caveman was still crowing, “ _And MY flowers are in HER window. Take that pretty boy.”_ Thinking back on how he and Red had parted ways, Frank smirked. His smugness died; however, as he saw Karen approaching the bench. 

He realized he’d rarely ever seen her not in work clothes, and – god – she was still beautiful in a tan trench coat hugging at her hips, tight skinny jeans, Vans instead of heels. That little corner of Frank’s mind was hatching another Karen related fantasy of pulling those jeans off. The rest of Frank’s mind was in a panic. Besides Maria in college, he’d been on very few dates. Frank’s father had raised him with some traditional notions, and; for as cocky as his younger self could be, Frank had never really taken to one-night stands. They never ended well for him. Beth was a perfect example. He’d needed the experience to feel human again, he wasn’t ashamed of that fact. Her being shot was bad, but it wasn’t what soured the memory. It was the fact that during the day he could pretend she was Maria, a pretty brunette with a son; and that night…in the dark...he could pretend it was Karen he was holding. He had respected Beth and using her as a stand-in for his emotional and sexual fantasies; it just didn’t sit well with Frank. He realized he had forgotten how to do this…this _thing_ he wanted to do: flirt, pursue somebody, tell them he cared. He wasn’t even sure he deserved to be thinking about Karen in such a way. He felt like a high school kid again: Completely clueless on how to tell a pretty girl he liked her. Thankfully, Karen made the first move.

“Hi,” she said gently stepping up the bench. She was smiling, but there was a weariness in her eyes. It was as if she was a chess player trying to calculate Frank’s next move.

“Glad you got the flowers,” Frank mumbled as he stood up. “ _Smooth idiot. Don’t bother saying hi.”_

“So…you wanted to talk?” Karen was looking at him expectantly.

“Yeah,” Frank swallowed, “About the other night…”

“Look Frank,” Karen cut him off. “If you’re going to interrogate me about what’s been going on in my life the past week, the answer is that I have no clue. I’m tired. I’m scared. I’m sure about one thing though: I don’t need people to jump in and tell me how to figure this out. I asked it in Vermont, and I’ll ask again: Why are you here?” Her words held fire but seemed anxious NOT angry. Like she was trying to get on the offensive side of the line before Frank could make a move.

Frank recoiled a bit. He couldn’t blame her. Hadn’t he taken that approach with her at the hospital those five months ago? He wanted to tell her he was worried about her. He wanted to tell her he’d support whatever decision she made about how to confront whoever was trying to scare her. Instead, he blurted out the only word that came to mind.

“Coffee.”

Karen’s blue eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

Frank breathed. “Look Karen…I know we’ve been through a lot of shit, but…could we…would you…just for today could we be a guy and a girl grabbing a cup of coffee like normal people? Please?” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.

“You…you want to have coffee with me?” Frank couldn’t place the questioning note in Karen’s voice. She sounded surprised? Hopeful? “Yes,” Frank tried to sound assertive. “I…Would you join me for a cup of coffee?” 

He was rewarded with a genuine smile. “Yes, just as long as you’re not using me for bait.”

Frank chuckled, “No ma’am. Not what I had in mind today.” They looked at each other for a moment as if unsure how to proceed. Slowly, Karen took Frank’s hand in hers and they set off.

Frank led her to a small coffee shop David had recommended. _“Sarah and I came here last time we did a staycation in the city. Great coffee, and super cool vibe. Trust me; she’ll like it.”_ Frank groaned inwardly as they walked inside. The small coffee shop had records decorating the wall; a Davide Bowie song was playing in the background; and random mismatched couches and tables filled the small space. It was so…

“How hipster,” Karen smirked, “I had a hunch you were embracing the whole hipster thing back when you had the beard. I didn’t know you’d loosened your coffee standards to include macchiatos and bullet proof coffee.” The laughter in her voice was light, like a bell. Frank would have relished that sound if he wasn’t so embarrassed.

“I…” Frank felt lost. “A friend said this place was good. I have no idea…what the hell is a pour over? A flat white? Christ. There are way too many types of coffee.”

Karen gave a genuine laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll order for us. No, don’t glare at me like that. I’ll make sure your coffee is black like your soul.”

Frank found himself beginning to relax as they waited for their drinks. He stared in suspicion at the two contraptions on the counter. One looked like a giant glass vase with a coffee filter folded and stuffed at its mouth. The other looked like a giant jug with coffee ground floating freely in it and a top you pressed down. “Your first lesson in all things hipster,” Karen gestured, “One pour over. One French Press. Both make excellent black coffee. Supposedly the pour over method ‘brings out the flavor’ so your coffee will be nice and black.” Frank eyed his cup warily, but when the angsty college kid behind the counter passed it to him, he was pleasantly surprised. “This is pretty good!” The kid frowned at his enthusiasm which made Karen turn away giggling.

They sat towards the back by a large window. Frank preferred to face the door, but; since Karen sat first, he took the seat facing the back wall and a large mirror. It was still early, and they were the only people in the coffee shop besides the 90’s wanna-be kid at the counter. Now seated, they both fell quiet. Frank realized he wasn’t sure what to say…than _Shining Star_ by Earth, Wind,& Fire began playing in the background. Karen gaped at him in shock. Frank met her gaze with equal amazement.

“I…I had no idea they would play this song,” he stuttered. “At 8:30 in the frickin’ morning no less.” They both began to laugh. 

“Holy shit,” Karen breathed. “I don’t know which one of us was more scared for a second. Maybe it’s a sign we’ve found our coffee shop.” As she brushed a piece of hair from her face, Frank noticed her bruised hand. Instinctively, he grabbed it. The image of her crying in the diner came back to him. “You feelin’ better?” he asked quietly.

Karen looked down. Her eyes were a little glassy. “Yeah…it’s…the police up there won’t give me anything…it’s just so frustrating.”

Frank continued to hold her hand, tracing small circles with his thumb gently over her skin. “Tell me about Kevin.” It was a soft request. “Did he ever go on that spaceship with you as a kid?”

Karen gave a soft smile, recognizing Frank remembered her talk of ginger snaps and the broom closet turned spaceship. “I let him in a few times, but only if he brought extra ginger snaps from the cookie jar.”

“Tell me more,” Frank returned her smile. He watched in happy amazement as Karen’s face lit up. She began telling him stories. Stories of Kevin. Stories of Vermont at Christmas and all the snow. Stories of being a kid at a diner. Frank couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so happy to just sit and listen to someone talk.

* * *

Ellison needed coffee. He’d slept terribly thinking about JJ’s call and the mystery video related to Karen. He’d woken up early that Saturday, thankful his wife had gone to Connecticut to visit her sister. He decided to walk around Hell’s Kitchen hoping to find Karen on her “errand.” No such luck. In need of caffeine, he trudged towards the river to a coffee shop his nephew kept clamoring about; said it had something to do with Cure and David Bowie records on the wall and a “ _life changing flat white”_. Not Ellison’s style, but he’d give it a try.

Entering the coffee shop, he paused. Sitting way in the back was Karen. His reporter’s eye quickly took in the scene: Karen was a beautiful woman, but her face seemed to be glowing in that moment. She was smiling, talking softly but in an animated way, and her eyes shone bright as she gazed at the man sitting across from her. Ellison realized with a shock that the man was holding her hand in a way that suggested they were _very_ comfortable with each other. Though his back was turned, it was obvious the mystery man had a strong build. Like someone who did pull-ups as if their life depended on it. Ellison turned to pretend he was looking at the coffee menu, but out of the corner of his eye he tried to gauge the man’s reflection in the mirror behind their table. _“That…that can’t be…”_ Ellison realized he was confirming his own hunch.

Suddenly, he saw Karen stiffen. She quickly stood up and walked towards him. “Ellison?” She stood in a way that blocked his view of her companion. 

“Karen,” he feigned surprise. “Funny seeing you here. Didn’t peg you for a hipster coffee kind of gal.”

“Yeah. I…what are you doing in this neighborhood on a Saturday?” She seemed flustered.

“Oh, just catching up on work. The Mrs. is out of town, so I’m taking the opportunity to get ahead. My nephew always talks about his place, so I figured I’d stop by before I start my day. What about you?” He lowered his voice in mock conspiracy. “Is that they GUY over there?”

He saw a brief smile play across Karen’s lips, but she quickly tried to hide it. “Yeah…. yeah…it’s just coffee. Just – uh – keep it to yourself. Ok? No newsroom gossip.”

“No problem kid,” he winked. “I’d better let you get back to it. Oh…maybe you can stop by the office this coming week. There’s…another story I wanted to talk to you about.”

Karen looked at him questioningly. “Ok?”

“We’ll talk later,” he assured her. “Go back to your coffee.”

As Karen turned back towards her table, Ellison quietly slipped out of the shop. Walking towards the side window he paused, as if looking across the street. From the corner of his eye; however, he confirmed his reporter’s gut feeling: Sitting across from Karen Page was Frank Castle. And he was looking at her with the same bright light in his eyes. _“That’s definitely not a meeting between informants.”_

Ellison was so taken back by this revelation; he didn’t notice the tall man with sandy colored hair standing at the cross walk. He was gazing in the window as well.

* * *

Karen returned to her table a little unsettled. “Everything ok?” Frank asked taking her hand in his once more.

“Yeah. I just ran into my part-time boss. I’ve been writing a story for him.”

“Didn’t realize you were part-time at the Bulletin now,” Frank said.

Karen sighed and looked down, “A lot happened while you were…away.”

“Seems like it did.” Karen detected a note of shame in Frank’s voice. It was as if he knew some of what had happened at the Bulletin or with Fisk, and he felt guilty about it. Karen met Frank’s intense gaze and said firmly, “It’s not your fault for not being around Frank. Yes, I felt…disappointed about it. Yes, I’m still…scared by this _whatever_ this is we’re doing here. Those are my feeling to own. Not yours. You were doing what was best for you.” Inside she thought, “ _When will you understand you’re not the monster?”_

Frank grunted as though he didn’t truly believe her. “Does this mean we’re done just being a guy and a girl grabbing coffee?” He was trying to keep his voice neutral, but Karen felt his disappointment.

Karen paused. She’d never shared so many stories about Kevin with anyone. She certainly hadn’t felt so peacful in a long time. “No. I mean…I don’t mind continuing to be “ _normal”_ people today with you. I…I like it.” She felt herself blushing.

The corner of Frank’s eyes crinkled in what Karen recognized as his shy smile. “Me too. Why don’t we…go get some food. It’s almost 1pm.”

“What?! We’ve been here for over four hours?”

“Guess so.” The shy smile again.

“Ok. Food it is, but no more hipster service,” Karen felt her earlier sense of giddiness return.

Walking out of the coffee shop, Frank placed his hand on the small of Karen’s back. She let his hand rest there, enjoying the warmth. Karen realized Frank’s touch was both unnervingly exciting and familiar to her. From their very first meeting, they’d entered each other’s physical space – not in a lustful way – but a way that felt intimate: a hand, a hug, their foreheads pressed together. Frank’s hand on the small of her back sent a shiver up her spine that triggered Karen’s more lustful thoughts. She couldn’t help but smile a bit, and realized he was studying her reaction out of the corner of his eye.

They grabbed a sandwich from a corner deli and stood outside people watching as they ate. Afterwards, Frank’s hand returned to the small of Karen’s back, and they walked aimlessly looking at shop windows and taking in the sights around them. Karen realized she never seen Frank so relaxed; so simply Frank. She found she loved watching him. He was a little old fashioned and protective; insisting he walk closest to the street and shielding her at the cross walks, but there was a sweetness about it. He wasn’t babying her; he was treating her as though she was something precious. She learned Frank did some pretty funny impressions that kept her laughing for blocks on end. He also had a love for music; at one point asking to barrow a street musician’s guitar to play a few chords of “Here Comes the Sun” in exchange for $5. Best of all, Frank admitted he’d even given that “hipster coffee” another try.

They made their way back towards the river as the sun was setting. Brett Mahoney still had a roving patrol in her neighborhood, and Karen didn’t want to risk Frank being seen. Standing by the bench, Karen suddenly felt shy under Frank’s gaze. “Ummm…want to grab a drink somewhere?”

Looking up, she saw something flicker in Frank’s eyes. “You want to?” He pulled her towards him so that their foreheads were touching.

“Yes, I do. I…SHIT!” Karen’s eyes were wide. “I almost forgot I promised Dinah Madani I’d meet her tonight. She has some information that might be useful for our case against Todd Less.”

Frank took a sharp breath in but didn’t loosen his grip on Karen. “If Madani’s calling you, that means it’s serious. I wonder if this Less guy really is connected to whoever is trying to scare you. I don’t like it Karen.”

Karen looked up at him. “I know, but I need to figure this out my own way.” She hoped her voice sounded convincing. The truth was, for as much of her past as she’d shared today, Karen was terrified of revealing what had happened to Kevin. To James Wesley. Terrified Frank would see her as an idiot, a drug dealer, a murder.

Frank seemed to sense her unease because he gently took one hand to cup her chin. “I don’t like it, but I respect your decision.” Karen gently leaned into his embrace, so their foreheads were touching.

“Ok.”

“Ok,” he said back. “Can we…have that drink another night?”

“Tuesday at 7pm, meet me here.” Karen’s voice was soft but decisive. It made Frank chuckle. “I like a woman who knows what she wants.”

They stood for a few more moments before Karen broke free. “See you Tuesday.” Frank nodded silently. 

From a distance, he watched Karen hail a cab. Tailed it until he was certain she was safely inside Madani’s apartment building. Then, he began walking to a spot he knew all too well. He felt happier than he could remember, and there was someone he needed to share his day with. Frank was so absorbed in his thoughts; he didn’t see the tall figure trailing behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read so far! More action to come as Frank lets his Punisher side out a bit.


	9. Ghosts Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinah Madani inadvertently brings to life a ghost from Karen’s past. A ghost who also has bad blood with Frank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We were young and drinking in the park. There was nowhere else to go. And you said you always had my back. Oh, but how were we to know. ~ Bad Blood by Bastille

Karen tried to collect her thoughts as she rode the elevator up to Dinah’s penthouse apartment. The happy, light-hearted feeling of coffee with Frank seemed to be pulsing through her whole body. They’d spent an entire day together and no one had gotten shot! Karen briefly indulged in thoughts of what could have happened if they had been able to grab that drink. She felt a smile play across her lips thinking about the possibilities of Tuesday night.

Her smile must have been transparent because, as the elevator opened, Dinah Madani gave Karen a curious once over. “Karen,” she said in a warm voice, “It’s good to see you. You look…really happy.” Dinah turned crimson realizing how her words came out. “Sorry, it’s just that you walked out of my elevator glowing. Definitely not the posture of someone who works 12 hours days investigating the underbelly of New York.”

Karen looked down feeling a little flustered. Dinah was an intelligent, observant woman. Karen wasn’t sure what unnerved her more: Dinah’s immediate recognition of Karen’s lovesick ( _“Did I really just think lovesick!)_ face _,_ or the fact that Dinah herself sounded nervous.

“No offense taken Dinah,” Karen tried to shrug and act natural. “I actually had a day off…it was really…it was great.” Inside she scolded herself, _“Do not start smiling again you idiot. Act natural!”_

Dinah seemed to relax a bit. “Well, I appreciate you stopping by on your day off. Come on in. I’ll pour us some wine, and then we can talk. You like Syrah?”

“Sure. Any red works for me,” Karen said as she stepped into the well-furnished apartment. She enjoyed taking in the little details that made the place so Dinah. Persian artwork, modern furniture, a picture of her travels in the Middle East. Karen’s eye honed-in on a picture she assumed was of Dinah’s time serving for the Central Intelligence Agency in Afghanistan. Karen remembered that Frank would have been deployed there around the same time. The time when his Commanding Officer, Colonel Schoonover and CIA agent William Rawlins were smuggling heroin in the bodies of dead service members and men and women they’d falsely labeled as terrorist. It must still enrage Frank to realize he’d been lied to about the targets his unit was actually fighting against.

Dinah interrupted Karen’s thoughts with a glass of wine. “Here. Enjoy.” Karen smiled as she took a sip, “Cheers.” Dinah smiled, continuing to look at Karen with a questioning gaze. “Soooo, I guess you’re wondering why I called you to come over,” Dinah began.

Karen sighed, “Well, I’m guessing if Homeland Security has information to share off the record; then this is something your superiors don’t know about.”

Dinah swallowed. “You have good instincts. Yeah, this case is something Homeland told me to drop a while back. Do you remember how Colonel Schoonover and William Rawlins were smuggling drugs into the country?” 

Karen nodded. “Yeah the District Attorney at the time realized the mob in New York would pick up the shipments of heroin and sell them. That was way before anyone realized members of the military or the CIA were involved. The mob’s part in it is what led the DA to conduct that sting in Central Park that…” Karen couldn’t find her voice for moment. It hurt to continue.

“The sting that killed Frank Castle’s family,” Dinah finished in a grim tone. “Once Frank killed those two men; I thought it was over. Then we found out Billy Russo was still moving heroin and money to the mob.” She shuddered saying his name, and for a moment Karen wondered about the history between Russo and Dinah. Dinah’s next words surprised her. “I thought the case was closed once Russo was dead.”

Karen’s eyes widened. “Was it Frank?”

Dinah nodded. “Yes. It was pretty soon after you helped us all escape the hospital.” She paused, “It was a decision he didn’t make lightly. And after just having left you…I think Frank’s heart was pretty broken.”

Karen felt her throat tighten. Frank had been through so much, and to have his best friend betray him. She wished she could hold him right then. Looking up, she realized Dinah was studying her. “That’s….so you’re implying that the operation has continued even with Russo dead?”

Dinah nodded. “Yeah, I was investigating a possible money laundering scheme between some accounts in Afghanistan, Oman, and here in New York. The accounts had been used to funnel money for Schoonover way back when. The go between happens to be Mario’s Pizza in your neighborhood, which is owned in part by Wilson Fisk.”

A lightbulb went off in Karen’s head. _“The pizza parlor where Frank got into that fight.”_

Dinah seemed to be reading Karen’s mind. “There was a shootout there Thursday morning. Looking into in even more, I realized Fisk is only part owner of Mario’s. The other owner is Todd Less. The Todd Less your team at Nelson, Murdock, and Page has been up against as your Bulletin article points out.”

Karen was nodding, “So Less stepped in when Russo died. Who is this guy?”

Dinah handed Karen two photos that had been sitting on her coffee table. “I did a little digging and found out that Russo and Less were buddies. The first photo is of the two of them in Afghanistan. The second one was taken way back. One of those pictures some non-profit working with foster kids got a release of information to take. Russo and Less grew up in the foster system together.”

Karen looked at the first picture. There was Billy Russo, as handsome as ever in his fatigues. He stood beside a tall, gaunt looking man with sandy colored hair and a beard in civilian clothes typical of military contractors. His face was partially obscured by sunglasses. It had to be Todd Less. Karen had never met him in person, but an oddly familiar feeling crept into her stomach. Then, she looked at the second picture. Her blood ran cold.

The picture showed a group of 15- or 16-year-old boys in matching t-shirts at a barbeque. There was teenage Billy, already a heartbreaker, in a shirt saying Fagan Corner Cares. Fagan Corner Cares was the foster home in Karen’s hometown…but that wasn’t what chilled Karen. Beside Billy, was a younger Todd Less. Without the sunglasses and beard, Karen recognized him immediately: Todd Less was Todd Nieman. The high school boyfriend Karen shot in the arm. She’d lived that night over and over in her dreams, but her thoughts had always been with Kevin. She’d never reached out to Todd. Never checked to see if he was even alive. 

_Your past is coming for you._

The words spun around in Karen’s head. Todd must remember her. He must have told Fisk about her. That was why someone was stalking her; trying to scare her with reminders of the past. 

Looking at the photo again, Karen had another thought: Did Frank know that Todd Less and Billy Russo had worked together? Was that why he’d suddenly shown back up in her life? And if he didn’t know, how would he feel once he found out Karen had been connected to someone like Todd?

“You alright?” Dinah asked. “You look a little pale.”

“Yeah,” Karen tried to pull herself together. “I just thought this was over. So…why are you sharing this with me?”

Dinah seemed to be calculating her next words. “Homeland has no problem with me investigating smuggling or money laundering. That’s a typical day’s work. Supposedly Todd Less had an art shipment coming from Oman on Friday. I think these shipments are how he’s now moving heroin into the country. I have enough information to investigate the shipment when it arrives Friday night, but I technically can’t prove Less was connected to Schoonover’s operation because that case is closed. Unless…you write a story about Less being tied to it. A story that shows how he and Fisk have continued the operation.”

Karen nodded, “If it becomes news then your superiors can’t ignore it.” She gestured to the photos. “There’s enough information her to prove Less and Russo are connected. I just have to prove he’s working with Wilson Fisk…Supposedly Less is hosting some black-tie event with Vanessa Mariana Fisk Friday night to promote his art gallery. If I can get in there and find information that proves Less is really working with Wilson Fisk; you have your story.” Silently she thought, _“And I can stop Todd from haunting me.”_

Dinah was smiling. “Yep. I bust Todd’s shipment and that only backs up your story.”

Karen had decided. “Ok. Count me in.”

Dinah gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Karen. This case means a lot to me.” She paused, choosing her next words carefully. “Look, Karen…I don’t want to assume anything…I haven’t been in touch with Frank since soon after the hospital. IF you somehow run into him, or IF you two communicate frequently…tell him to stay away. Frank is still wanted by the state of New York. There’s nothing I can do about that even if Homeland has promised not to touch him.” She looked expectantly at Karen as though she was prepared to hear a flurry of denials. Karen simply met her gaze.

“Ok.”

* * *

Frank liked coming to the graveyard at night. It was tranquil, calm, and he could see the moon. Maria had loved staying up after the kids had gone to bed to gaze at the moon. When Frank was home, which wasn’t much, night is when they were able to really talk. At first, continuing the tradition had been too hard. Yet, Frank was coming to realize the young man, the Marine he was, that person had died at the carousel with Maria and the kids. As much as he’d tried to fight it, Frank was a different man now. He’d gotten a new lease on life when Karen Page had shoved his family’s photo in his face. He was only now able to admit that. In this new life, Frank visited Maria to confide in someone. Someone he could trust with his feelings that were too fresh, too raw, to share with the living. Feelings like the ones he had for Karen.

“Remember how you used to joke that, if you died before me, I wasn’t allowed to date down?” He laughed leaning against the headstone. “Remember how I’d get so mad at you. Tell you not to say crazy shit. You’d just keep on and on saying shit like, ‘Frank, just remember I’m your sunshine. If you have to find someone else, don’t date trash. Find a star.’ Well…I…I know you’d like her Maria. Karen is my star. She helped me remember the good times you and I had together. She puts my ass in place just as quick as you used to. I hope you understand that.”

Frank felt a gentle breeze on his neck. He felt peaceful, and calm. It was as if Maria was giving her blessing. “Thanks hon,” Frank whispered. “We’ll talk again soon.”

Standing up, Frank noticed a figure walking up the hill towards him. He was walking too slow. Assuming a confident posture, Frank began his way down the hill. As he neared the figure, the man stopped. He was tall, gaunt, and had sandy colored hair. To the casual eye, the man looked like a business type out for a walk. Frank knew better. The man was dangerous: It was the gleam in his eye, and the fact he had one hand in his pocket.

“Evening,” the man stared hungrily at Frank.

“Evening,” Frank tried to move past him, but the man blocked his path. “Maybe you could help me,” the figure said. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. Name’s Billy Russo. Do you…know where his grave is?”

Hearing the name Billy Russo, Frank’s blood went cold. “Who the hell are you?” he growled at the stranger. His right hand inched towards the Ka-Bar in his jean pocket.

The stranger sneered, “Just a friend of Billy’s here to finish a job.” Frank saw a hand emerge from the stranger’s pocket; he saw the gleam of mettle…

**WHAM!** Before the stranger could take the safety off his gun, Frank knocked it out of his hand with the Ka-Bar. The knife made a deep cut in the man’s right hand. “Fuck!” the stranger screamed. He lunged at Frank; eyes wild like a rabid dog. Both men fell to the ground. Frank worked to throw his attacker off balance, but the stranger was surprisingly strong.

“Karen’s death will be even sweeter knowing it’s your undoing!” the man snarled.

The sound of Karen’s name threw Frank into a frenzy. With a growl, he drove the Ka-Bar into the man’s shoulder causing him to loosen his grip. Frank threw the man off of him. Breathing hard, he stood up ready to close in on his target. Ready to kill him. “You stay away from her!” he yelled.

In that instant, a figure jumped out of the shadows blocking Frank’s path. “Let him go Castle!” The Daredevil stood before him.

“Red!” Frank was furious. “That man is a sociopath! He wants to kill…”

“I don’t know what he’s done, but you killing him won’t solve anything,” Red continued to block Frank’s every move. 

“Get the hell out of my way!” Frank was practically foaming at the mouth with anger.

He could see the man was in pain, but still very much alive. Frank realized the man was no longer glaring at him, but staring intently at Red. A look of realization passed over the man’s face, and a wicked gleam seemed to spark in his eyes. He slowly reached for his discarded gun, lying a few inched away from his good hand. He took it in both hands, aiming shakily at Red’s right shoulder.

“No!” Frank lunged forward knocking Red down as the shot rang out. 

The shot was so close that both men’s ears were ringing. “God,” Red moaned. Frank’s head was spinning. He grabbed Red by both shoulders, shaking him in anger. “You almost got yourself killed you idiot!”

The wail of police sirens silenced him.

“Looks like you two better be on your way,” their attacker sneered. “I don’t think either of you can afford a chat with NYPD.” Before Frank or Red could act, the man lurched forward into the trees, his body melting with the night.

Red was panting, “He’s right Castle. Get out of here. Just go. I’ll keep searching for him.” Frank watched in amazement as the Daredevil pulled himself up atop a headstone, swinging from one to the next like they were monkey bars. 

The sirens were getting closer. Looking up the hill where Frank had come, he could make out Brett Mahoney’s figure getting out of a police car. Brett froze, and Frank knew he saw him. He also knew getting arrested wouldn’t help him find the man who’d just threatened him and Red. The man who wanted to kill Karen.

Without another thought, Frank broke into a run. He ran until he was far away from the cemetery. Far away from the Daredevil. And, far away from the ghost of a man who’d known Billy Russo.


	10. A Friend In Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy is starting to realize the truth about Karen and Frank’s acquaintance. He also gets startling introduction to the man whose been stalking Karen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Foggy is a good friend!

Foggy sighed as he sipped his coffee. It was his first pre-dinner cup; something he only allowed himself when he was at the office late in the day. It was black, strong, and burnt; just like the bottom of the beautiful coffee pot he’d bought for NMP. Burnt coffee could only mean one thing: Karen was pissed.

He’d noticed Karen’s foul mood upon arriving at the office that morning. She typically greeted him with a smile and pressed for updates on his relationship status with Marci. Wednesday; however, she sat stoically at her desk with noise cancelling headphones locked into place. They’d been working for almost 10 hours, and Karen had not once smiled or joked about seeing if Josie’s had a beer delivery service. She was glaring at her laptop as though she hoped it would melt. Foggy could easily assume she was still upset about her dad, but the call he’d received from Mitchell Ellison on Saturday made him think otherwise. _“I know we said no gossip, but I saw Karen earlier today with our mystery flower guy. Your hunch was right Nelson.”_ They’d ended the call quickly, both promising to look out for Karen. Four days later, and Foggy still had no idea how to approach the subject with his friend. What was he supposed to say? _“Hey Karen, what’s new in your life? Been hanging around with one of the most wanted men in New York City? How’s that going for you?”_ Looking at her now, he had a feeling that between Saturday and Wednesday something had happened between Karen and Frank Castle. 

“What?” Karen’s voice was sharp as she glanced up to find Foggy staring at her from the doorway.

Before Foggy could open his mouth to speak, Matt burst into the office. He’d been out most of the day, which was common when his alter ego had business to attend to. “Guys! I think I’ve got a plan.” Matt’s voice was full of an energy Foggy knew all too well. He’d picked up on it in college. It was an energy bordering on obsession that occurred when Matt couldn’t let go of a case. Ever since Brett had called the office last week to _casually_ mention that the Punisher had been seen at Mario’s Pizza – a site Matt’s alter ego had been casing out for months due to rumors that Vanessa Marianna Fisk had dealings with the owner – Matt’s desire to prove the link between the Fisks and Todd Less had intensified. Although his friend hadn’t disclosed his recent nighttime escapades, Foggy could tell Matt had been out late every night. The slight bruise on his friend’s cheek, which Matt walked into the office modeling on Monday, only confirmed Foggy’s theory.

“You’ve got a plan to get us some more clients,” Foggy quipped hoping to lighten the mood.

Matt smiled. “No. I think I know how we can bring Todd Less down. The last few nights I’ve heard rumors he had an art shipment coming into the Port of New York on Friday.” (At these words, Karen looked up.) “That’s the same night Less and Vanessa Fisk are hosting their art gala. A little too convenient right?”

Foggy nodded slowly, “A couple senators, members of Wall Street, and a bunch of other people on Wilson Fisk’s shit list are going to be at that party. All because Todd Less wants to ‘ _build community.’_ It does seem like an easy way to distract people if in fact he does have some sort of shipment coming in…you think the shipment is more than art?” (Karen continued to watch her friends converse. The look on her face made Foggy wonder if she’d already known this information.)

Matt nodded emphatically. “I bet there’s way more than art in that shipment, and I think I know **_someone_** who can make a visit to the port Friday night to find out.” With a flourish, he handed Foggy two emerald green envelopes. “While that someone is at the port; you my good friend, and Marci of course, can be my eyes and ears at the party. Watch Less and Vanessa Fisk as the wine and dine New York’s elite. Brett will be there manning security, so you can notify him if you spot anything out of the ordinary.”

Foggy looked at the invitation with trepidation. On one hand, he kind of enjoyed helping Matt with some of his vigilante escapades, and Marci would love to flutter around that kind of party. She’d be the perfect social butterfly to distract people while Foggy kept his eyes on Vanessa Fisk and Todd Less. On the other hand, Matt’s idea seemed too perfect. What if something…

Karen’s voice broke Foggy’s internal debate. “I’ll be there too.” Her voice was firm. Decisive. Foggy knew his friends were headed towards an argument.

“What. Karen. No,” Matt scoffed. “We don’t want to attract too much attention.”

Karen stood up. “For your information Matt, I have an interest in this case for the Bulletin as well. I’ll be there to report on it.” She pulled a similar emerald green envelope out of her purse. “Already have my invitation thanks to Ellison. His wife can’t make it.”

“You know he can’t see that...” Foggy began to joke, but his friends didn’t acknowledge him.

Matt frowned. “So, you’re going to investigate Todd Less and Vanessa Fisk for the Bulletin. That’s really the ONLY reason you’ll be there?” Foggy winced, hearing his friend’s voice take on that all too preachy quality that meant he was upset.

Karen’s eyes widened, and for a moment she was flustered. “Of…uh…of course it’s for the Bulletin.”

“So, it has nothing to do with the fact that the Punisher has been lurking around Mario’s Pizza all week. The Mario’s Pizza that happens to be owned in part by Wilson Fisk and Todd Less?” Matt’s face was growing red. “Because from what Brett Mahoney insinuated when he called me earlier, it seems you’ve left out some details about your acquaintance with Frank Castle.”

Foggy looked back and forth between his friends, realizing this conversation was no longer about going to a party. Matt looked increasingly upset, while Karen stood frozen.

“Brett told me about Castle using you as a human shield last year. Told me he saw you at the hospital five months ago after Castle had mysteriously escaped. Are you trying to help him? Because you need to stay home and stop trying to convert him into a good person. He’s not.”

“You don’t know him,” Karen’s eyes were glassy.

“I don’t need to know him Karen. He’s a murder and a violent psychopath. You shouldn’t feel pity for him.” Matt’s voice was firm. 

Karen cut him off. “Do NOT tell me how I’m supposed to feel about Frank!” 

_“Oh shit.”_ Foggy moaned inwardly.

“Frank! He’s FRANK now? When the hell did he become Frank to you?!” Matt was practically yelling now. “You can’t actually have feelings for him!”

Karen flinched at the anger in his voice but held her ground. “Matthew, you of all people should not rush to judge my feelings. Given your own history with violent individuals.” 

Her words were met with silence. Foggy knew Matt would never admit it, but an image of Elektra floated through all three of their minds.

Karen grabbed her purse. “I’m taking the next two days off. I’ll see you Friday night at the art gala Foggy.” She looked at them both, daring either man to argue. “I **will** be there whether you two like it or not.” She left without another word.

Foggy felt his face flushing with irritation on Karen’s behalf. “Jesus Matt. That’s not the way to get her to open up.” He grabbed his coat.

Matt looked sheepish. “I…I didn’t mean to get so mad. It’s just that she’s being stubborn. Frank Castle? How…how did that even happen? He’s not safe. She could get hurt if she’s involved with him.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you but laying on the Catholic guilt in the way you just did won’t help!” Foggy sighed with exasperation. “Look, I’ll help you at Less’s party; just lay off Karen. Ok? I’ll go talk to her.” With that, Foggy ran out of the office in hopes of finding Karen.

* * *

Karen marched down the street. She decided to cut through the alleyway to avoid any human contact as she headed home. She was seething. It wasn’t so much because Matt had started to guess at her feelings for Frank. It was the fact he might be right. Maybe she was being stupid. 

Karen tried not to think of Tuesday night. How she’d stood by that bench at the river waiting. Running through a list in her head of all the places not in Hell’s Kitchen, and away from Brett’s prying eyes, where she could take Frank for a drink. Her cheeks burned as she remembered fanaticizing about what Frank would think of the dress she was wearing; how they could find a dimly lit bar; act like two normal people just out talking…maybe flirting…maybe making out. When Curtis had arrived at the river with a white rose and an anxious look stating Frank couldn’t make it, Karen had come undone. 

_“Let me guess,” she’d snapped, “He’s out on a mission.” Curtis, bless him, had tried to be empathetic. “Look, I told him not to do this. Frank’s worried that…” “That I **might** get hurt. Yeah, I figured.” Karen had cut him off without mercy. “So, ask Frank this for me. Why is tonight different than Saturday? What happened that raises the potential of me getting hurt? Is he just scared? Ask Frank that.” She’d left without another word._

Karen cringed at the memory now. She wished she’d been kinder to Curtis. It wasn’t his fault. The truth was that **Karen** was scared. Could Frank have found out about the connection between Todd Less and Billy Russo? What would that do to him? Would she lose him to his Punisher side again? Worse, what would he think knowing she had been connected to Todd all those years ago? 

Karen began making her way down the alley, willing herself not to cry. “Karen!” She turned to see Foggy following her. “Wait up!”

Neither of them saw the man trailing behind Foggy.

* * *

_Two hours earlier…._

Curt stared at his friend who’d crashed his apartment late Saturday night. Frank was lying on the coach, staring blankly at the ceiling. He held the discarded white rose in one hand, absently stroking it with his thumb. “Look Frank,” Curt sighed, “Karen has a reason to be upset. You end up throwing away every chance you get with her to go find another war. In her eyes last night was no different.”

Frank sat up. “What was I supposed to do Curt? Whoever is stalking her was one of Billy’s boys! That means the guy is a sociopath. He said he was going to kill her! I have to find this guy. Going out for a drink would have given this maniac an ample opportunity to do something, and the one thing I won’t do is use Karen as bait!”

“Is this the guy who tried to fight you in the cemetery?” David piped up. He’d called Frank earlier saying he had information about Todd Less. Worried that someone may still be watching him, Frank gave him Curt’s address. The spook arrived with his usual focused energy and began typing furiously on his laptop while Curt tried to bring Frank out of his funk. Now, he brought his laptop to Frank and Curtis to show them a picture. Curt took a sharp breath in; Frank understood why: It hurt Frank to look at the face staring back at him too. Hurt to think about the friend that had lied to them both. 

Billy looked back at them from the photo with his typical self-assured smirk. He was standing next to a tall man with sandy colored hair. Frank felt his stomach twist. How could he have been so blind back then. “Damn. That’s him; that’s the guy who came at me and Red.” He was quiet for a moment, remembering Billy Russo and their time in Afghanistan. “Shit…when we were deploying to Afghanistan, we stopped in Qatar to wait there for more supplies. I remember Billy was hanging out with that guy, but I was too busy to get acquainted with him. I was scrambling to send last minute letters to Maria and film those read-along stories the USO sends to your kids before our unit went dark. I never thought anything of it…”

Curt was shaking his head in disbelief. “How’d you find this David?”

David shrugged, “I thought I’d have to dig deep on the dark web, but Madani had this on her server.”

Frank’s eyes widened. “Madani wanted to talk to Karen on Saturday night about the case Nelson, Murdock, & Page have against Todd Less. I wonder this picture had anything to do with it.”

“Maybe,” David mused. “If not this picture then maybe the next one. You said Karen was from Fagan Corners, right? Looks like Billy Russo and Todd Less were there at some point. They were both in the foster system.” David pulled up a second image for Frank and Curt.

“No way…” Curt gaped. Frank was silent, trying to process the image in front of him. There was a teenage Billy Russo beside a younger Todd Less. They were at some picnic in woods that Frank could easily picture to be on the outskirts of Fagan Corners. “I remember Billy saying he was a foster child.”

“Yeah,” David sighed, “The problem is that when you turn 18 there is no guarantee you continue to get support. From what I can gather, Todd Less stayed in Fagan Corners. Oddly enough, his name was Todd Neiman back then. It says so in the photo credits. There’s not a lot on the internet for Todd Less, but Todd Neiman has quite a history: Possession and sale of cocaine, marijuana, heroin; petty theft; commercial burglary; the works. Also, I found a hospital report from either 2006 or 2007 that states Todd Neiman was found in the woods with a gunshot wound to the shoulder. He almost died that night.”

“Holy shit,” Frank murmured, “What if this Neiman – or, uh, Less – guy knew Karen?” Curt and David both looked at him. Curt raised an eyebrow. “Why would you think that?”

“Karen is from Fagan Corners…Her father said his son died 13 years ago. Karen told me it was a car crash, and from what she said it would have been around the same time Less was shot. Shot in the shoulder. Maybe her brother got into it with this low life.” Frank was pacing now; thinking out loud. “Paxton Page was shot in the shoulder, and the police downplayed the incident…maybe Less knows someone on the force there.”

“That younger cop was pretty shady,” Curt nodded following Frank’s line of thought.

“That note I found said _“Your past is coming for you”._ What if someone who still buddies with Less shot Paxton to make a point to Karen…And then the cemetery. When Less confronted me, he was ready to fight. He was fired up about Billy…That changed when Murdock showed up. The guy’s whole face changed, like he was picking out another target.”

David frowned. “I thought you said the Daredevil showed up.” “Yeah, yeah,” Frank said absently. “Not Murdock. It was the Daredevil. Red – he’s a piece of work, but he and Karen are friends. Fisk must know that…And if Todd Nieman aka Todd Less is working for Fisk, he’d want to make the boss happy. That’s why he tried to shoot Red in the shoulder.”

“So, you think Fisk is sending this Todd guy after people Karen cares about.” David said. “Makes sense; especially since she killed his right-hand man.”

Frank nodded earnestly, “Yeah. On any given day Red would hear someone sneaking up on him from a mile away, but he was too busy preaching at me to listen.”

Curt scoffed, “What, the dude’s got superpowers?”

Frank ignored him. “Paxton, Red…who else would Fisk and Less try to… **SHIT**!” The loudness of his voice made the two other men jump. “David, can you look up Franklin Nelson’s work and home address? I need to find out where he is!”

“Franklin Nelson? Who is he?”

“He’s the guy from the FBI video. The other lawyer Karen works with; they’re friends. This Less guy couldn’t get to Red, and he’s hurt now. He’ll try to go after Nelson instead.”

* * *

_Back to the present_

“Wait up Karen!” Foggy saw his friend pause at the other end of the alleyway. Before he could take a step further, a tall man in all black and a black ski mask on stepped out of the shadows. He was pointing a gun at Foggy.

“RUN KAREN!” Foggy screamed. He dived to the curb as his attacker pulled the trigger. BAAMM!

“FOGGY!” Karen was screaming.

“Son of a bitch!” the man yelled. “YOU again!” Foggy looked up to see his attacker had been shot in the arm. He hadn’t taken the shot. Foggy felt like he was moving through water, trying to stand up before the masked man. His attacker was too fast; however, raising the gun again…

In that moment, a shadow jumped over Foggy and slammed into his attacker. Foggy watched in amazement as the two men wrestled to the ground yelling. It Foggy a second to realize the other man was the Punisher, there with a gun in hand. With a roar, the Punisher slammed his fists into the masked man’s face. “You maniac! I will kill you!” The attacker let out a snarl and kicked the Punisher in the stomach. Foggy sensed the Punisher didn’t have any Kevlar on, because the kick knocked him off his feet. 

The attacker rose…and at that moment Karen was running, pulling her .380 out of her purse. **PIINNG!** She aimed, but the man ducked. “Nice try Karen, but you always did aim a little too high!” he called out mockingly. The masked man darted out of the alley. The Punisher was up and charging after him, but Foggy could see his attacker jump into a black sedan. “Damn it!” the Punisher cried, panting and heaving. It was only then that Foggy realized people around them were screaming.

“FOGGY!” “Karen,” he cried running to her. She hugged him briefly before pushing past him to where the Punisher was kneeling. Foggy watched a tender look pass between his friend and the Punisher… _or Frank Castle_. Foggy realized he was seeing the man behind the vigilante; a man who gently touched Karen’s cheek as he stood up. Karen helped Frank Castle regain his balance, and for a moment they just stood staring at each other.

“Karen…you’re alright. Thank god…I…Christ! That maniac is getting away!” Frank looked at her with bright eyes. “You could have gotten killed!”

Karen was visibly shaking. “Get out of here Frank. You need to stay away from this mess.”

“What!? But what if that guy tries to…”

Karen’s eyes were like fire. “NYPD will probably be here any second. Enough people have been dragged down into this mess because of me. You getting shot up or arrested does not help matters.”

“Damn it! I needed to make sure you were safe!” Frank Castle looked like he wanted to tear his hair out.

“Why?” Karen shot back.

“You know why!” Foggy had a feeling they’d had this discussion before.

“No, I don’t!” Karen was yelling, but her eyes were full of tears. “We may have had coffee Frank, but you still haven’t told me why you chose to come back into my life all of the sudden. So, tell me now, OR I’ll have to assume it was all to start another war.”

Foggy flinched as he saw Frank Castle grab Karen’s arm and pull her to him. He should step in between them; he should do something…yet he was frozen; he could only watch them argue back and forth. “ _Oh god, I hope they don’t kiss,”_ he thinks to himself.

“I guess I have my answer,” Karen murmurs. “NO.” Frank Castle says firmly, “That’s not true. I...” His words are cut off by someone yelling, “NYPD!” Foggy saw Karen mouth the words “ _please”_. She took a step back as Frank Castle bolted down the alley.

Foggy barley has time to put his thoughts together as two police officers rush up to him. “NYPD. Someone reported gunshots.” Karen seemed frozen, staring at the spot where Frank Castle had been standing a few moments ago. Shanking, Foggy stepped beside his friend. “We were walking home, and someone tried to mug me. My friend has a conceal and carry permit.” He nudged Karen, who blankly pulled the permit out of her purse. “There was one man: tall, black trench coat, black ski mask. One man, that’s all.” Foggy’s voice was firm.

An hour later Foggy and Karen sat in Karen’s apartment. Marci was on her way over with Thai food; she’d been beside herself when Foggy called to explain why he’d missed dinner. Foggy didn’t bother calling Matt because he knew all too well that Matt was scouring the rooftops at this point in the evening. Besides, he knew Matt was not the person Karen needed right now. The friends sat in silence staring at their two beers which were growing warm by the second. Foggy willed himself to ignore the white roses displayed by Karen’s window, but he wasn’t having much luck. 

Finally, he spoke. “So, someone’s been stalking you.” It was a statement of fact. 

“Sort of,” Karen murmured. “Sort of stalking. Or haunting. I’m not sure which.”

“Damn it Karen. This is the kind of stuff we promised NOT to hide from each other,” his words were harsh, but his voice was full of concern. “How come Matt doesn’t know? How come I’m just finding out?” How did the Punisher…”

“Frank found out my dad was shot.” Karen’s voice was shaky. “I didn’t want anyone to know, but Frank was there when it happened. He was traveling with a friend. Since I came back to the city, he’s been trying to help me.” Her voice wavered even more. “I know he **_wants_** to help, but I can’t let anyone else die because of my stupid decisions that caused all of this.”

“Wait,” Foggy was confused, “Caused all of what?”

“The Blacksmith Operation. Billy Russo. Wilson Fisk. Todd Nieman was a part of all of it, and I pushed him to that point. My actions that night pushed him to it!” Foggy could tell Karen was exhausted; she was making no sense now.

“What night?” Foggy was shaking his head. “Karen, what night are you talking about?” He put an arm around his friend, truly worried she might be having a breakdown.

“I should have told you about Frank,” Karen gulped, “But I just wanted to be… _normal_. I really…really wanted that coffee!”

Thankfully, Marci arrived at that moment with their food. She took one look at Karen and wrapped her in a big hug. Peering over Karen’s shoulder she whispered, “I’m glad you’re ok Foggy-bear.” Foggy smiled, relieved she was there.

Eventually, they put Karen to bed; divided some of the Thai food for her; and quietly left the apartment. Marci insisted Foggy sleep at her place that evening. Though he followed without protest, Foggy couldn’t relax. He kept replaying the evening’s events in his head. How he had almost gotten shot. How Frank Castle had saved his life. How Karen and Frank Castle kept looking at each other. Foggy knew his friend well enough to admit the fact he’d ignored for the longest time: Karen was in love with Frank Castle even if she was too scared to admit it. Foggy was pretty sure Frank Castle felt the same way, and it surprised him that the thought was not completely repulsive. Sure, the man was terrifying, but after seeing the way Frank Castle had looked at Karen today…Foggy wondered if his fears were a little misguided. More importantly, Frank Castle might be the only person who could protect Karen from whoever was stalking her. He certainly knew more about what was going on in her life than Foggy did at this point. “ _But how do I get Karen near him again?”_ His thoughts drifted back to the invitations Matt had given him earlier that day. An idea took shape in his mind; a way to be certain that Frank Castle actually had feelings for Karen. 

His last thought before falling asleep was _“Matt is going to kill me for this.”_


	11. The Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are being made for Vanessa Marianna Fisk’s and Todd Less’s big gallery opening, and Foggy hatches a plan to get Frank to the party. Meanwhile, Wilson Fisk is patiently waiting for Todd Less to complete his part of their bargain regarding Karen.

_Frank was standing in front of the carousel watching Maria and the kids step on. Maria looked over her shoulder with a smile saying, “You two go have fun. We’ll be here.” Frank turned to see Karen by his side smiling up at Maria. She was waving. Then a man in black; Billy, Todd, maybe Fisk - Frank couldn’t make out who, jumped out from behind them. All hell broke loose._

Frank woke up to the sound of gunshots ringing in his ears. Looking around, he reminded himself he was in the back office of the church Curt rents out for his veteran support group. He’d slept for almost twelve hours, but it wasn’t a peaceful sleep. After a few minutes fighting to regain a sense of calm, he got up from the couch to find some caffeine. 

Frank sighed as he poured coffee into a Styrofoam cup. He’d felt a knot in the pit of his stomach since the fight in the alley. Karen was in danger, yet she kept telling him to stay out of it. “Hey brother,” Curt poked his head in the kitchen interrupting Frank’s thoughts. “I’m glad you’re up. There’s…someone here to see you.” There was a note of curiosity in his voice.

“Huh?” Frank grunted. Grabbing his coffee, he shuffled out into the conference room. Walking inside, he stopped short. Sitting on one of the folding chairs by the doorway was Foggy Nelson.

“Counselor,” Frank used nickname he’d given Foggy. “What are you doing here? Is Karen alright?” He tried to control the anxiety in his voice.

Foggy nodded nervously. “She’s ok. She’s not hurt…Look Mr. Castle, I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know that Karen is planning to confront Todd Less at the art gallery opening he and Vanessa Marianna Fisk are hosting tomorrow night.” 

Frank took a deep breath in. “Damn,” he heard Curt chuckle. “Your girl is always running headlong into trouble.”

Frank smiled slightly; even with all of the crazy shit happening, he was still amazed at Karen’s bravery. His pride quickly died; however, picturing her in the same room as Todd Less and Vanessa Fisk. Frank had never met the woman, but he could only assume she was as unhinged and dangerous as her husband. “Is Karen trying to get herself killed?” Frank asked to no one in particular.

Foggy let out a bitter laugh. “After what she was saying last night, I’m starting to think so.”

That caught Frank’s attention. “Hell no. NO. She can’t go in there alone. Why would you let her do that!? Why would Murdock let her do that!?”

“Matt’s going to be checking out the supposed art shipment Todd’s got coming into port. Besides, Karen made it pretty clear she’d be at the art gallery no matter what. Said she was going to report for the Bulletin. You and I both know she won’t back down once her mind is made up.” Foggy gave a rueful smile. 

Frank nodded in agreement. “Damn stubborn woman.” He paused, “Why are you sharing this with me?”

Foggy looked down. “Because…I think you’re the only one who can talk some sense into her if she is trying to get herself killed in the process of confronting Less and Fisk….and I think she really cares about you.” Foggy swallowed nervously, “It was pretty obvious last night after you ran away.”

“I did NOT run away,” Frank snapped. “She told me to go.”

Foggy glared at him. “Yes, she did. Because every time you’ve walked into her life, it’s because of some war. Maybe she’s afraid to trust you.”

“Thank you,” Curt chimed in. “I’ve been trying to tell him that.”

Frank stared despondently at Foggy. Foggy took the opportunity to continue. “Look Mr. Castle, Karen is a smart woman. She wouldn’t have talked to you alone in the hospital that first time we came to represent you if she’d thought you were truly a psycho killer.” He stuttered afraid his words would unleash Frank’s fury. “You…you saved my life yesterday, so I want to believe I can trust you, but I have to know: If it comes down to Karen or another war, will you choose Karen?”

“Yes,” Frank said firmly but not without a slight hesitation. Saying it out loud made it real, and that terrified Frank. He’d put Karen up on a pedestal, out of reach because he’d never felt worthy. It was safe because he could love her from afar. _(Christ did he really just think “love”?)_ Making it real would give her the chance to turn him away.

Foggy scoffed at the slight pause. “The hesitation in your voice doesn’t make me feel too convinced. Maybe Matt is right; maybe you DON’T really care about Karen.”

Frank was at Foggy in an instant. He slammed the chair beside him as he knelt inches from the lawyer’s face. “Easy Frank,” Curt called, but neither man acknowledged him. 

“You know what Counselor? I’m not an idiot. I know that Red; and therefore, probably you, think I’m crazy! I know the whole world thinks I’m a soulless killer! I’ve been told I was messed up my whole life – from my old man to the Marine Corps. And you know what: You, and Red, and everybody else can keep thinking those things. But don’t you ever, EVER, say I don’t care about her!!! Karen is the ONLY reason I’m still alive!” Frank’s voice broke. All he could do was blink rapidly at Foggy.

Despite the intensity of the man kneeling in front of him, Foggy seemed to relax. He nodded, “Ok. That’s all I needed to know Mr. Castle.”

There was silence for a moment, and then… “Frank. We’ve saved each other’s lives, so there’s no need for formalities. Call me Frank.” He looked a little sheepish as he backed out of Foggy’s personal space.

“Ok…Frank,” Foggy made a face as though the name was difficult to pronounce. “Frank.” Slowly, he pulled an emerald green envelope out of his coat pocket and handed it to Frank. “This is what you need to get to Karen.”

Frank pulled a velvety, emerald green invitation out of the envelope. The invitation was green and black and decorated with gold lettering. It was the kind of invitation meant to impress upon the invitee that your host had money. Frank read the delicate gold script slowly:

Vanessa Marianna Fisk and Todd N. Less invite you to

Less Galleries: A Capsule of Middle Eastern Art

When: Friday, March 1st at 7pm

Where: Less Galleries

What: For private art show, cocktails, and dancing

Please note this is a black-tie event. Present invitation upon arrival.

Frank grunted in dismay. Turning over the invitation, he saw a small map of Hell’s Kitchen indicating the location of the gallery. 

“Supposedly this gala is by invitation only. Matt, Karen, and I have been doing some research and a ton of New York elite Wilson Fisk has had dealings within the past will be there. So will the city’s major newspapers, and the Bulletin is on that list. All to _“foster community”._ Two invitations were mailed to NMP. Matt won’t be attending and there is no way I want Marci within a 10-block radius of anything related to Wilson Fisk or his wife. That means you can use this one to get in.” Foggy’s voice held a note of anxiety.

Frank looked at Foggy with wide eyes. He was impressed by the lawyer’s bravado; coming to him like this. Matt Murdock and Brett Mahoney would be furious if they knew. “And you’re sure Karen will be there.”

“Yes.”

“Ok, then I’m going.” Frank nodded slowly. 

“Whoa! Hold on a second,” Curt cut in, “There will be plenty of security at this thing. The Punisher can’t come walking in with a Ka-Bar and an M16.”

Frank shook his head. “The Punisher’s not going. I am. I have to talk to Karen.” 

Curt looked at Frank with wide eyes. “A LOT of people who don’t like you will be there,” he stated. “Can you really go in unarmed?” Frank nodded. His mind was made up. “I’ll have David be my eyes and ears at the party. He can alert me if something doesn’t look right.”

Foggy stood up. He looked like he might be ill. “Ok…Frank. Ok. I’ll do what I can to distract Brett Mahoney.” He made his way towards the door but stopped before leaving. “I’m about to lie to my best friend and girlfriend to make this happen. You better be telling me the truth: Frank Castle is going to be at that party, and he’s going to talk to Karen. If the Punisher comes out tomorrow night and gets caught, I…I will be the one to prosecute you in court!” He left without looking back.

Frank gave a small smile. He liked the Counselor’s passion. “I’ve never seen someone so scared of you, yet so determined to help their friend. He must care for Karen a lot,” Curt laughed.

“He’s a good man,” Frank said. He looked down at the invitation, saying a silent “ _thank you”_ to Foggy.

* * *

Karen stood in Ellison’s office feeling emotionally drained. “Thanks again for securing that invitation for me,” she said. She’d spent the day trying to find any information she could on Less Galleries; anything to prove the link between Todd Less and Wilson Fisk. Besides what Dinah had shared earlier that week, Karen had nothing. It didn’t help that her mind was preoccupied with Frank: What if he’d been hurt? What if he’d found Foggy’s attacker? Karen was so exhausted from worrying about what-ifs that she finally took a break and met Ellison at his office. He’d kept pressing her all week about discussing another story.

“No problem kid,” Ellison shrugged. “Even if you are part-time, there’s no one else I’d want to cover this Less guy’s grand opening. You’ll be my date since the Mrs. is out of town. Unless…. you’re bringing your GUY?” He hoped his voice sounded casual.

Karen looked down. “I’d rather not talk about that right now.”

Ellison nodded slowly and Karen had the distinct feeling he was struggling to say something. “Karen, I don’t want to pry but…Is your “coffee date” connected to the death of James Wesley?”

Karen was taken back. Out of all the questions Ellison could have asked, she was not expecting James Wesley to come up. In connection to Frank of all people. “No. God no. James Wesley was…we had an argument long before my “coffee date” came into the picture.” She felt a wave of panic rising in her chest. Could Fisk and Todd be trying to frame Frank?

Ellison must have seen her terror because he put a hand on Karen’s shoulder. “I’m not trying to scare you, but last Thursday J Jonah Jameson from the Daily Bulge called me. Said he got a tip that someone had a video related to Wesley’s death. Said to look into your activities during that time. JJ told me he’d notify me when the caller reached out again to set up a time and date to pick up the video. JJ said we have to protect our own.”

Karen’s heart was hammering in her chest. _“The security camera’s at Fisk’s penthouse.”_

Ellison squeezed her shoulder. “Karen, I will help you with whatever is going on. You have to let me help you though.”

Karen nodded. “Ellison, I need…I need to find out how Todd Less and Wilson Fisk are connected. Someone from my past is trying to – I don’t know – haunt me or blackmail me or something. Everything, including that video, is tied to the relationship between Less and Fisk.”

Ellison nodded, “Ok. We have some investigating to do tomorrow. What about…your coffee date?

Karen swallowed. “He’s trying to help in his own way, but I can’t let him get involved. He’s lost too much of his life to monsters connected to Fisk and Less. If he gets involved…he may lose himself for good.” Karen stopped; afraid she’d said too much.

Ellison was quiet for a moment. “Well, I guess that answers my question.”

“What question?”

“Why you still care.” Ellison didn’t have to finish his sentence. They both knew he was talking about Frank Castle.

Karen left shortly afterward making Ellison promise to call her if JJ related anything about that video.

* * *

Conjugal visits at Rikers Detention Facility were typically allowed once per year; however, nothing related to Wilson Fisk is typical. Vanessa came often, and those loyal to Wilson Fisk ensured no recording devices were listening in on their conversations. He stretched out on the flimsy bed like a cat in the sunshine, hungrily watching Vanessa pace the room. The first hour of their hour and forty-five-minute visit had been quite pleasurable. Unfortunately, Vanessa had worked herself up over worries about Friday night. Wilson tried not to smile, but his wife was quite beautiful when angry.

“I don’t know how much longer this can go on Wilson,” Vanessa was pacing back and forth in her robe. “Todd Less is becoming more and more of a liability. He didn’t kill the Daredevil and keeps botching up his attempts at Karen Page. Worst of all his face! After the Punisher almost beat him to a pulp yesterday, he can’t show his face tomorrow night! Why Schoonover and Russo ever recommended him is beyond me!”

Wilson chuckled, “You worry too much my dear. Todd will finish the job tomorrow and then we can be free of him.” Vanessa looked at him wildly. “What if he doesn’t.” Wilson stroked her hair as she sat down beside him. “If he doesn’t, we move on to plan B. We have the video. We have the money. Anyone who questions our authority will learn the hard way tomorrow night. The men and women of New York will understand the “community” we are building after your party. They will understand that I am in charge.” 

Vanessa gave her husband a small smile. “Yes, tomorrow night will be fun.”

* * *

Back at Curt’s apartment, David was busy looking up blueprints of the building that housed Less Galleries. He’d driven over as soon as Frank had called. When Frank said he needed help, and could David bring a tuxedo, David had thought it was a joke. Now, looking up, he couldn’t help but smile. Frank looked miserable as Curt worked to make sure the tux fit him.

“Wow,” David smirked, “Is this what it’s like to send your kid off to prom? Curt, I give it to you: Your tailoring skills are on point. Even though Frankie and I are about the same height, I didn’t think my old tux could fit Mr. Pull-Up Man.”

From where he sat with a thread and needle, Curt smiled. “I think our Frankie is going to look mighty fine for his date tomorrow.”

“For Christ’s sake it is not a date. And this is uncomfortable,” Frank grumbled.

“Well, like it or not, that tux is the only way you’re getting in. The art gala is black-tie. Security would be on your ass in a second if you rolled up in your usual black attire,” Curt quipped.

“I know. I know. I’m just nervous,” Frank sighed. “Why the hell am I nervous?”

“Because you’re finally going to ask your crush out,” David teased. He ignored Frank’s glare. “In all seriousness, you have ample ways to exit if things go south. Building is three stories. One elevator. One fire escape. One back entrance for cleaning staff. I’ll have one of my small drones up in the air surveying the street, and you’ll have an earpiece so we can communicate.”

“Thank you, David,” Frank said quietly. “I really appreciate this.”

“Just don’t make me have to sing _Kiss the Girl_ in your ear to pump you up tomorrow night,” David laughed. Before Frank could fire a remark, David’s cell rang. “Shit. That’s Madani. I’ve got to take this.”

David stepped out into Curt’s living room. “Dinah, hi. Everything alright?”

“I need you to do some surveillance for me tomorrow night. There’s an art shipment coming into port. Come by the office later and I’ll give you the details.” Dinah was quick and to the point.

“Oh,” David was caught off-guard. “Okkkaayyy.”

“Everything alright David,” Dinah was quick to pick up on his hesitance. “Because this is what I have you on payroll for? I call. You work.”

“Nope. No…I’ll stop by soon.” David assured her. He could keep track of Frank and Madani at once. Two drones up. Two computer screens. It just seemed too convenient that both events were happening at the same time. _“You’re just overthinking,”_ David chided himself. What could go wrong?


	12. Gallery Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the night of Todd Less’s big gallery opening. Frank crashes the party in search of Karen who is looking for proof about the relationship between Todd Less and Wilson Fisk. Meanwhile, David Lieberman, Matt Murdock, and Dinah Madani may have a surprise waiting for them at the Port of New York.

_Friday, March 1 st, 5PM_

_Matt could feel the pulse of the entire city from his perch on the gentry crane. He breathed in deeply, trying to block out the noise and focus on any activity coming from on Pier 3. Todd Less’s shipment was about 3 nautical miles out. Matt could hear the merchant vessel sailing slowly through the water if he listened closely. He had to prepare himself for whatever and whoever came with that shipment. Still, he was having trouble concentrating. His mind kept drifting to thoughts of Karen. She was his friend, and even though they’d lost the romantic spark that had burned briefly two years ago, he cared about her. The idea that Karen may be endangering herself for Frank Castle unnerved Matt. “Your just one bad day away from becoming me,” that savage had told him when they first met. Those words still infuriated him. There was no way Matt would EVER be like Frank Castle…no way. Yet…if Matt was honest with himself, he didn’t know why he was so judgmental of Frank. Maybe he was scared the Punisher was right; maybe that’s why he felt so at war at time with his vigilante side. The list of “shoulds” ran through his head again: He shouldn’t go out looking for fight. He should focus on Nelson, Murdock, and Page. He should settle down. Yet, he found himself out night after night chasing rumors of thugs like Fisk and hoping Elektra may suddenly reappear as she had many times before. Maybe that’s why the Punisher unnerved him so. Matt sighed. He would prove to Karen that Frank Castle was a lost soul, but not tonight. Tonight, he had other things to focus on. So, Matt waited patiently for Todd Less’s shipment to arrive._

Friday, March 1st, 7PM

David parked the van a block over from Less Galleries. He fidgeted nervously in the back of the van as he tested the small walkie-talkie he had to communicate with Dinah and the headset linked to Frank’s earpiece. “You alright spook?” Frank looked at him as he adjusted his earpiece. “Yeah,” David said. “Still processing the fact that you’re only going in there with my voice of reason as your protection.”

He relaxed as he watched Frank smirk. He hoped his friend wouldn’t notice the two different feeds on his laptop screen. One was from the drone circling Less Galleries. It displayed an old three-story brick building with lights glowing. It was 7 o’clock on the dot, and people could be seen entering the building on a grand staircase that had been covered with an ornate Persian carpet. The other feed on his screen was hooked on Pier 3 at the Port of New York. The area was desolate except for a gentry crane parked on the pier. David assumed the crane would be used to unload whatever shipment Dinah Madani was desperate to inspect. He prayed Frank would be safely in the building with Karen by the time Dinah started calling him on her radio for assistance.

He looked up at his friend and was taken back by how pensive Frank looked. The man had fought in war zones, but the prospect of telling this woman how he felt made Frank Castle look like a child who wanted to hide in the backseat of the van. David gave him a smile, “You look great man. That tux is better than any kevlar I’ve seen on you. Now, go get your girl. I’ll be here is you need me.” 

Frank nodded, “Thanks David.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Now, tell me where the staff entrance will spit me out at.” “You should be on the first floor directly opposite the back staircase. It’s a mettle one that leads to the second and third levels of the building. Looks like this shindig’s been set up with a cocktail bar near the front entrance, so no one should notice you coming out with the caterers. Anyone in that area will be looking for booze.”

“Alright,” Frank gave him a small smile. “I’m going in.”

* * *

Ellison willed himself to calm down. He was anxious to get to Less Galleries and find Karen. He knew she would waste no time in finding an opportunity to poke around Todd Less’s office. Her willingness to hunt facts for a story made her one hell of a reporter, but it also put her in danger. He needed to get into that party FAST; instead, he was stuck in the world’s slowest taxi. Sighing, he looked out the window. The taxi was approaching Less Galleries from the back. The building was lit up like a tree at Christmas. Ellison could see men and women in what he guessed to be catering uniforms shuffling up the street to the back entrance.

The taxi stopped momentarily to let a handsomely clad man cross at the cross walk, and Ellison did a double take. _“That looks like…that can’t be…”_ Ellison watched the well-built figure follow the herd of caterers into the building. Turning in his seat, he studied the direction the man had come from and noted a white van parked at a few blocks back. “I’ll get out here,” Ellison snapped to the driver. Walking to the front would be quicker than waiting for his taxi driver to figure out how to use his gas pedal. He needed to find Foggy Nelson and tell him about the special guest he’d seen a moment ago.

_Matt watched as the crane slowly loaded crate after crate. It had been at it for an hour and a half. No signs of foul play; no one had even met the vessel when it arrived. It didn’t feel right. Matt closed his eyes and tried to scan the city for sounds. Silence…and then…the whisper of a faint conversation._

_“Hawkeye this is Eagle. Radio Check. Over.” It was a woman’s voice._

_Then… came a response. “Eagle this is Hawkeye. Read you loud and clear.” A man’s voice, but it seemed farther away than the woman._

_“Unit is approaching number 3. Start scanning the area.”_

_“Hawkeye copies. Roger. Out.”_

_What was that? And why did the woman’s voice seem to be growing stronger in Matt’s ears? He strained to hear more, but there was silence. Suddenly, he heard the increasing volume of another conversation._

_“Almost to Pier 3 boss. Yeah, I’ve got the money. I’ll call you when it’s over.”_

_Matt realized he may have company very soon._

Entering Less Galleries, Ellison had to admit he was impressed. As guests came in from the cold outside, they walked down a long entry way decorated with floor to ceiling Persian rugs and potted ferns. The entryway opened to the main floor that had been filled with small circular tables for guests to claim for the evening. To the immediate right of the entryway was the cocktail bar which had been decorated to evoke images of a genie’s lamp with large brass lights hanging ing among the display of liquor. To the left of the entrance was Todd Less’s art collection, a maze of vases and statues. Behind all of this was a staircase leading up to the second floor. Ellison could hear strands of a live band playing some Carlos Santa song, and saw couples already swaying to the music. He noted that the staircase continued upward, but the third floor had a sign stating it was off limits. _“If I know Karen, she’ll find a way up there,”_ Ellison thought. 

The color and light were almost too much for Ellison; he could barely recognize anyone. He scanned the room twice over. Brett Mahoney and a few other NYPD types in plain clothes were walking around, but where were Vanessa Marianna Fisk and Todd Less? More importantly, where was Karen?

“Ellison!” He turned to see Foggy standing near the beginning of the art display. He hurried over. “Nelson! I’m glad you’re here. Have you seen Karen yet?”

“No, not yet.” Foggy shook his head nervously. He was shuffling from side to side. “I do see Brett Mahoney though. Ellison we…we need to keep him distracted.”

“Why?” Ellison raised an eyebrow.

“Because I gave **someone** an extra invitation,” Foggy’s voice was low. “Brett will go ballistic if he sees that…SHIT. This is really happening.” Foggy’s face was pale as he stared over Ellison’s shoulder.

Ellison turned to look towards the cocktail bar. To its left was the door to the caterers were coming in and out of. A handsome figure stood partially obscured behind a large potted fern. Even with a tuxedo on, there was no mistaking that face. It was Frank Castle.

_David scanned both screens. He could make out Dinah and her small team driving up to Pier 3. She’d stopped everyone half a mile out; they would walk on foot the rest of the way so as not to attract attention. So far, she’d been silent on the radio since their radio check. “No news is good news,” David thought. He turned to look at Less Galleries. He could barely make out the party through one of the windows._

_“Damn,” he murmured into his headset. “Less and Fisk pulled out all the stops for this thing.”_

_“Tell me about it,” came Frank’s response._

_“Well enjoy a couple grape leaves or some olives for me,” David joked. “Or better yet: Find your girlfriend.”_

_Silence. No witty comeback. “Frank, do you see her?” David felt a twinge of anxiety. Still silence._

_Then, his radio buzzed. “Hawkeye this is Eagle. Approaching Pier 3.” Shit. “Hawkeye copies. All clear.” Hopefully everything stayed calm._

_David pressed his headset down and whispered, “Frank have you found Karen?”_

_Then, almost reverently, an answer: “Yes.”_

Ellison nodded, too surprised to speak. He looked at the Punisher and, in that moment, saw the vigilante fade away. The man’s facial expression had changed; the cold, calculating look had softened into a tender gaze. It was a look of love. “ _Holy shit. Frank Castle is in love,”_ Ellison thought. He followed the man’s gaze, eyes moving up the back staircase to rest on what Frank was watching: It was Karen.

Karen stood on the last step leading up to the second floor. She gazed out at the crowd below like a warrior surveying a battle ground her face highlighted by just a touch of makeup. She wore a simple silver and lilac colored dress with long sleeves and a low back; the material barely grazed her knee allowing her long legs to stand prominently on display. Her hair was down but pulled back with some sort of comb or clip – Ellison couldn’t tell. She looked beautiful and Ellison didn’t have to be a mind reader to tell Frank thought so too. Frank’s eyes were wide, pupils dilated as though he was a hunter and Karen were his prey. Ellison watched as Karen, who hadn’t seen Frank Castle down below, slowly make her way past the dancing. She reappeared on the steps leading to the third floor. A few moments later, he saw Frank carefully making his way up the stairs hugging the walls to avoid too much attention.

Ellison turned to Foggy but realized the lawyer had left him standing alone. A second later, he heard Brett’s voice yell “Whoa! You alright Nelson?” followed by Foggy saying, “So sorry I spilled my whiskey on you. Here, let me help you clean that up.” He looked towards the bar, and sure enough Foggy was actively trying to pin Brett in the corner. Ellison took that as his signal to stand guard on the stairs leading to the third floor and wait for Karen and Frank to come back down.

_“She’s there,” Frank’s whisper came over the headset quietly. “She’s so beautiful.” David smiled at the tone of Frank’s voice. He directed the drone closer to the window. He could make out a figure in lilac walking up what appeared to be stairs. “Well don’t stand there,” David chided. “She’s on the move. Go talk to her.” Suddenly, his radio crackled. “Hawkeye did you say something?” Dinah. Damn. He took off the headset for a moment so Frank couldn’t hear him. He had to remember to speak softly. “Eagle that’s a negative. I…I… thought I saw something. Pier 3 is good.”_

* * *

Karen’s heart was pounding in her chest like a steel drum as she looked out over the party. She’d been lucky enough to arrive at Less Galleries without too much trouble. She’d tried to wait for Ellison but some Wall Street show-off, who was already drunk on champagne, had tried to hit on her when she walked through the entryway. She’d used her Bulletin ID badge as an excuse to say she was on the clock and working. It wasn’t a complete lie. Once the sorry excuse for a suit and tie had zoned in on another woman to schmooze, Karen made a beeline for the stairs. She looked around once more, but the lights were too dim to make out Ellison or Foggy. _“Damnit,”_ she cursed realizing she would have to start investigating on her own.

Vanessa Marianna Fisk’s event planner had made the gallery over into a maze of color and light. Karen was thankful because it made it easy to slip past the couples dancing on the second floor, slide under the velvet roped sign saying NO ENTRY, and head upstairs. _“Please God, let my luck hold out,”_ she thought. Looking down the third-floor hallway, Karen noted a conference room at one end and what must be Todd Less’s office at the other end. _“What happens if you run into him?_ ” Karen asked herself. Karen had left her .380 at home, knowing full well it would be confiscated by security. She hoped her grandmother’s pearled comb would work as a knife if she needed to protect herself. She had a feeling Todd Less, no Todd Nieman, would be pleased to corner her after his botched attempt to shoot Foggy. _“You always aimed too high Karen”,_ his voice echoed in her ears. Karen had a gut feeling he’d never forgiven her for that night by the camper, and she couldn’t blame him. Her stomach felt sick remembering how she’d left him…how she’d grabbed Kevin…the car. “ _STOP Karen. Focus.”_ Looking down the hall again, Karen took a deep breath. _“Dinah is probably at Pier 3 by now. You made a promise Karen. You have to do this.”_ She made her way to the office door.

_Dinah and her team quietly marched on to the pier in waves. There were eight Homeland agents in total: Four up front to clear the pier, Dinah and one other agent to conduct the investigation, and two personnel bringing up the rear. Dinah waited, trying to control her breathing, for Agent Thompson in Wave One to give the all clear signal._

_In the van, David sat back scanning his screens. Out of the corner of one image, he saw headlights. Was someone on the pier? “Eagle this is Hawkeye. Looks like a car is parking on Pier 3.” His radio sounded, “Eagle copies. Keep an eye on it.”_

_David wasn’t alone in his observation. From the position Matt had moved to underneath the vessel’s gangway, his senses were suddenly flooded with the sound and smell of a car. It was coming closer and closer._

Karen gently opened the door to Todd Less’s office and peered inside. She let out a sigh of relief: It was empty. Tiptoeing inside, Karen was taken back by the large window facing the Hudson. Even though Hell’s Kitchen blocked most of the view, she could make out a glimpse of the river between buildings. 

_“I hope you’re ok Frank.”_

The thought came unbidden as it always did when she saw the river. She breathed, imagining he was holding her hand. She…Karen shook her head. _“Focus!”_

Looking around the office, Karen noted it was pretty bare. There was a large desk with a non-descript clay vase at one end, but that was it. Karen went to the desk and opened the drawers. Nothing. No laptop, no notebooks, no pens, no papers. Did Todd Less actually work in here? The only thing in the office was the… _the clay vase._ Karen remembered shooting clay pots and coffee cans with Todd during seventh period her senior year. He’d always talked about wanting to learn to sculpt…Karen suddenly knew where Todd might hide information in plain sight. 

She reached a hand in the vase and pulled out a stack of papers held together with a rubber band. Unfolding the stack, Karen gasped. This was the information she and Dinah needed: A timetable listing vessel names, the time, date, and port of departure from either Oman and the United Arab Emirates and the time and date of arrival at the Port of New York. The names Todd Less, Vanessa Fisk, or Mario Bellucci were written beside different arrival dates. Karen looked at that last name again… _Mario Bellucci of Mario’s Pizza in Hell’s Kitchen_. 

Karen remembered Dinah’s words, “ _I was investigating a possible money laundering scheme between some accounts in Afghanistan, Oman, and here in New York. The accounts had been used to funnel money for Schoonover way back when. The go between happens to be Mario’s Pizza in your neighborhood, which is owned in part by Wilson Fisk.”_

This timetable could help prove the Blacksmith Operation was still operating. Karen looked at the paper again. “ _Why is tonight’s shipment not on there?”_ She wished she could call Dinah, but knew it was out of the question. She took her cell phone out of the small clutch she was carrying and snapped a picture. Karen glanced down at the other piece of paper…and a shiver ran down her spine. It looked like a guest list for tonight’s event, but something was off. Karen scanned the names realizing notes had been made be each person on the list. Some of the notes were dollar amounts, others were cryptic words. Reading down the page, Karen’s breath hitched. She read:

_Franklin Nelson -_ _Aided FBI_

_Matthew Murdock_ _-_ _Daredevil_

_Karen Page_ _-_ _Allied Union, James Wesley_

Rereading the page, Karen began getting an uneasy feeling. There were other familiar names.

_Frank Castle - William Rawlins, Billy Russo, Ray Schoonover_

_Mitchell Ellison - Bulletin_

“Fuck,” Karen breathed. Todd Less was monitoring Wilson Fisk’s hit list. Why? What did he plan to do? Shaking, Karen took a picture. She quickly put the papers back in the vase and made her out of the office. Quietly shutting the door behind her, Karen started to walk down the…

“Excuse me?” The voice chilled Karen. 

She turned, locking eyes with Vanessa Marianna Fisk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The night is only getting started!


	13. The Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Karen are in the spotlight at Gallery Night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm under the gun again. I know I was the 45% of then. I know I was a lot of things,  
> But I am good, I am grounded  
> Davy says that I look taller. I can't get my head around it. I keep feeling smaller and smaller  
> I need my girl. I need my girl
> 
> ~ I Need My Girl by the National (Guess what song was playing on the dance floor for Frank and Karen.)

_Friday, March 1 st 8:30pm_

_Matt crouched under the gangway listening. Up until 10 minutes ago, no one had been on the pier except the crew that brought the vessel carrying Todd Less’s supposed art shipment. Matt wasn’t an expert on the world of shipping, but he knew enough to understand that typically Port Authority would hire a crew of longshoremen to off-load cargo. This vessel’s crew had done all of the work themselves. Matt hadn’t heard or sensed any other presence on Pier 3. Why? Matt’s instincts told him it wasn’t publicly known that Todd Less had goods arriving tonight. His worry was confirmed as the car he’d heard driving finally stopped close to the ship. Matt felt the vibration of a heavy set of footsteps walking up the gangway and stop._

_“Captain,” came a gruff voice. “Good to see you this evening. Wilson sends his regards. He told me to thank you for making tonight possible.”_

_“We did what we were hired to do. It was a pleasure,” came a voice Matt recognized to be the Ship’s Master. He’d listened to the voice for almost an hour barking orders to the crew as they off-loaded Less’s cargo._

_There was a rustling sound. Were they exchanging money? Matt tried to focus, but another faint conversation clouded his senses._

_“Eagle. This Hawkeye. A man got out of the car. Looks like he is talking to the vessel’s captain. “_

_The woman’s voice answered, “Eagle copies.” Her voice was close now. Matt had a feeling this “Eagle” would be at the pier soon._

Karen stared blankly into Vanessa Fisk’s cold blue eyes. “Are you lost Miss Page?” Vanessa stood stoically in front of Karen, her emerald green dress giving her the appearance of a mythical dragon guarding its lair…or in this case, blocking Karen’s exit.

 _“Fuck,”_ Karen thought. She squared her shoulders hoping to meet Vanessa’s gaze with a look of authority. “No, Mrs. Fisk. I’m not lost. Just checking out Less Galleries for the Bulletin.”

“And why would you be up here? The Todd Less collection is downstairs and so is the party.” Vanessa’s voice held an icy note of anger.

Karen gave her best shrug. She would not let herself be intimidated by this woman. “The party is only one part of what makes up Todd Less. This building used to be low income housing, and he just took over the nearby middle school. I decided to look around since he doesn’t seem to be available to answer a few questions. I owe it to the community to cover his whole story.”

Vanessa sneered, “You **would** be the perfect person to tell Todd’s story. Since you’re so intimately involved in its conception.” 

Karen tried to stay calm. “ _She knows…”_

Vanessa leaned in closer. “While it’s very noble of you to share his story, I don’t appreciate you flitting about where you don’t belong, but…you’ve always had a knack for that sort of thing.”

Karen backed up, slowly reaching for her grandmother’s pearl comb. Vanessa continued, “Why don’t I let my bodyguard Henry escort you somewhere where you won’t be…Aaahh!” Karen’s heart skipped a beat as she saw a familiar set of hands firmly grasp Vanessa Marianna Fisk’s shoulders and shove the Kingpin’s wife aside.

“Your boy Henry’s going to wake up with a nasty headache tomorrow,” a voice filled with gravel and honey growled, “He’s lucky to be waking up at all.”

Karen could hardly process what was happening as those familiar hands, hands that had clasped hers not long ago in a coffee shop, grabbed her with a force that sent a jolt of electricity up her spine. One hand found its way to the small of her back while the other was guiding her by her left elbow.

“Also, it’s not very ladylike to threaten people. Now, you will have to excuse us.”

In an instant, Karen found herself being ushered away from a startled Vanessa Fisk and down the stairs by Frank Castle. She was relieved and angry and so happy to see him. Part of her wanted to yell at him for the past week, but most of Karen’s brain was processing how **goddamn handsome** Frank looked in that tux. So handsome it almost hurt to look at him.

“Fr-Frank? WHAT are you doing here?” Karen could barely get her words out.

“I should ask YOU the same question,” he whispered into her ear. “What the hell Karen? Were you trying to get yourself killed? How were you going to protect yourself? By offering to comb that viper’s hair? Trade shoes with her?” Karen tried to snap back at him, but she couldn’t. It felt like her body was made of lead; Frank was practically pulling her down the stairs. Once they were safely on the dance floor, Karen spun to face Frank. She was irritated and struggled to break free, yet Frank would not let go of her. 

“I was sort of armed. Ok. It was fine.”

“Sort of armed is not the same as being armed,” Frank hissed. His brown eyes were wide with concern and something Karen couldn’t quiet read.

“Well are you armed?” she shot back.

“No.” Silence.

Karen felt her stomach drop. “Have YOU lost your mind? Why the hell not Frank? Wilson Fisk’s wife and however many of her cronies are here tonight. Brett Mahoney is downstairs with most of NYPD in this precinct!”

They were leaning in close to one another so that no one could hear them. So close, Karen realized, that her body was pressed firmly into Frank’s. She could feel a warmth radiating from his body; she could smell his skin. It made her feel a kind of buzz she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I’m not armed because I’m here to see you.” Frank’s voice was soft. Karen felt her heart flutter again; the buzz-like feeling intensifying. 

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because maybe for two seconds I just want to be a guy dancing with a beautiful girl.” Frank’s eyes were bright as he spoke. “People are starting to stare. Can we…will you just…dance with me. Please.”

 _“Damn that man and how he wields that word.”_ Karen took a breath in. She was trying to act logically. She needed to get off of the dance floor and find Ellison or Foggy. She needed to contact Dinah. Yet, despite her brain’s objections, her body was acting like it had a mind of its own. First, she found herself resting her forehead against Frank’s. Then, she was embracing him in the same way they had hugged so long ago. Karen felt Frank’s body melt into hers, and they began to sway to the music.

_Dinah took a deep breath. She’d met up with Wave One behind the gentry crane parked a few meters from the merchant vessel. Looking up at the gangway, she could see an older, wiry man in coveralls – most likely the Ship’s Master – talking to a bulky, meaty looking man in a grey suit. The man in the grey suit handed over a fat wad of dollar bills._

_“Thompson get a photo of the exchange. That’s the go-between. That’s Mario Bellucci of Mario’s Pizza,” Dinah ordered. She could hardly believe her luck. This was more evidence that something was going on under the table between Todd Less and Wilson Fisk. Dinah pressed her walkie-talkie. “Hawkeye. This is Eagle. Be advised we’re making our move.”_

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_“Freeze!” Dinah called out as her team moved forward. “Homeland Security. We’re here to investigate potential narcotics smuggling.”_

_Mario Bellucci turned with towards Dinah with a scowl. “What the hell?”_

_The Ship’s Master was quick, he pulled out an M9 from his hip pocket. Dinah lifted her side arm and… **WHAM**! She watched in shock as a figure with a baton knocked the Ship’s Master unconscious. It was the Daredevil._

_“Don’t shoot,” she ordered her team. “Wave One secure Bellucci. Wave Three keep an eye on the perimeter of the pier.” The agents rushed to handcuff the stocky man while the Daredevil laid the Ship’s Master gently on the deck._

_Meanwhile, David watched open-mouthed at the scene on his screen. The Daredevil – the actual freakin’ Daredevil – was there on Pier 3. He’d been so quick that David wasn’t able to sound a word of warning over the radio when he saw the figure move out from under the gangway._

_David’s heart was pounding. “Please god let things stay calm,” he sighed. It looked like Dinah had the situation under control. Plus, Frank trusted the Daredevil. Speaking of Frank…David turned to look at the image of Less Galleries. He noticed two men clad in black suits walking towards the back entrance. They didn’t look like caterers…Something wasn’t right. Mario Bellucci showing up on Pier 3 and now these men entering the gallery. Both events were too perfectly aligned._

_“Frank,” David whispered into his headset. There was silence. “Frank? Answer me. What are you doing? Frank!”_

David had no way of getting his drone close enough to the building to see Frank once he moved to the third floor. Otherwise, he would have seen his friend turn down the volume on his earpiece. Not that it mattered now. Frank was in his own world…and the only other person there with him was Karen.

Frank pressed her closer as they danced to the music. He could smell the lavender and coconut of her shampoo as she moved her head to rest on his shoulder. He could feel the curves of her body pressed firmly into him as they swayed to a rhythm all their own. It was heaven.

Some couples had stopped dancing when the beautiful blonde and handsome man with stiches above his right eye had stepped onto the floor. They were staring blatantly at the couple, whom were so obviously in love, and they weren’t the only ones staring. Vanessa Marianna Fisk was panting as she stood by the top step leading to the third floor. She glared down at Karen Page and Frank Castle. _Damn them both._ Seething with anger, Vanessa made her way to the elevator. It was time for the fun to begin, and those two would feel the brunt of it.

Ellison stood below the dance floor with eyes fixed on Karen and Frank. There was no denying it now; Frank was clearly the mystery guy who had been pursuing Karen.

“Oh….oh boy.” Foggy’s whispered as he slid up beside Ellison. “Thank god Brett is…”

“Thank god I’m what?” came Brett Mahoney’s voice. Both men turned to look at the detective with wide eyes. He was standing behind Foggy, his suit still stained with whiskey. Before either man could utter a word, Brett looked up the stairs toward the dance floor…A wave of shock passed over his face.

“Hell. No,” he muttered. “Foggy, please tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing.”

At that moment, Karen broke away from Frank and bolted down the stairs.

* * *

_Friday, March 1 st 9PM_

_Matt put two fingers to the Ship’s Master’s pulse point. He could feel his heart beating faintly. The man wouldn’t be an issue for now. Behind him, Matt could hear the Homeland Security agents detaining the crew members and Mario Bellucci…but they were watching Matt warily. He could hear their whispers._

_“Ma’am that’s the Daredevil. The actual Daredevil. What do we do about him?”_

_“We do our jobs. Start inspecting the crates.” The woman speaking was assertive. Matt assumed she was the agent in charge of their operation. “The Daredevil hasn’t bothered us. I’ll talk to him.”_

_Matt could smell a faint scent of rose oil as the woman approached._

_“Uhhhh…Mr…Daredevil, thank you for your help just now. I’m Agent Dinah Madani with Homeland Security. We’re here on official business, so I need to ask you a few questions. Why were you waiting for this vessel? Were you here to meet anyone?”_

_Matt felt a jolt of recognition as the name Dinah Madani. Hadn’t Foggy read that name aloud to him in some of the news regarding Frank Castle last year? Out loud, he spoke cautiously. “I’ve been tracking a supposed art shipment for Todd Less. Rumor around Hell’s Kitchen is that he’s smuggling narcotics for Wilson Fisk.”_

_He could sense Agent Madani relax. “Looks like we’ve heard the same rumor. That’s why my team is here. I appreciate your help with this matter, but our agency can take it over from here. We…”_

_Agent Madani’s voice was cut off by the sound of Mario Bellucci laughing._

Foggy wasn’t sure what terrified him more: Seeing Karen and Frank Castle embracing or the look of abject horror on Detective Brett Mahoney’s face. “Hell. No,” he heard the detective hiss. “Foggy, please tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing.”

Foggy was at a loss for words. What could he say? _“I set my best friend up with the Punisher because I thought they’d make a cute couple. No big deal.”_

At that moment, Karen broke away from Frank and bolted down the stairs. Foggy registered the look on her face as she ran past them. It was the classic Karen Page “I-really-need-to-tell-you-something-but-I’m-scared-of-what-you’re-going-to-think” look. Like it or not, whatever was going on between Karen and Frank was about to come to a head, and Foggy couldn’t let Brett ruin it.

“ _Here goes nothing,”_ he thought. 

As Frank made his way down the steps after Karen, Foggy slammed into Brett with his left elbow causing them both to topple to the ground. “SHIT!” Brett yelped. As he fell, Foggy saw Ellison dart after Frank. People around Foggy gasped and made room. One of Brett’s fellow officers ran over. “What the hell is going on?” Suddenly, the sound of clapping caught everyone’s attention. As Foggy was pulled off of Brett, he looked up to see Vanessa Fisk step to a small podium near Todd Less’s art display. Foggy could tell she was trying to regain her composure.

Vanessa stood quietly for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. Something in Foggy’s gut told him nothing good would come of her speech. He began making his way around the crowds and toward the entryway. “Stop Nelson!” he heard Brett yelling. Both men were so absorbed in their drama, they didn’t hear Vanessa begin her toast.

“People of New York. Todd Less and I are honored to have you hear tonight. Though Todd couldn’t be here due to…a personal emergency, he is pleased you’re making yourselves at home. For many years, you have all worked hard – in your own way – to bring safety to the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. To bring culture. To bring order. Well, tonight begins a new chapter for this neighborhood and our city. We hope you will work with us to build our vision.” 

As the crowd erupted into applause, Vanessa stepped away from the podium, and the lights dimmed. No one noticed the two men in black suits step out of the kitchen.

_David was starting to get worried. Who were those two men that had entered the building?_

_“Frank! Answer me. Frank!”_

_He glanced at his laptop. It looked as though Dinah and her team were sorting things out on the pier. She seemed to be talking to Mario Bellucci. Now where was Frank? David looked at the image of Less Galleries trying to get a view of the front of the building. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw two figures appear: It was Frank and Karen. They looked like they were arguing. “Frank. Two men entered the gallery. Turn up your earpiece! Frank!”_

* * *

_Friday, March 1 st, 9:15pm_

Frank’s heart was pounding as he rushed out of the gallery. Time had stopped while he and Karen were dancing. Then she had looked up at him in sheer terror and ran. What had happened? He couldn’t let Vermont repeat itself. He couldn’t let her get away. 

Frank practically jumped to steps to catch up with Karen. He grabbed her arm. “Karen. Hey! Wait!”

Karen turned to look at him. Her eyes held the same haunted look he’d seen at the diner. “C’mere. Please Karen. Tell me what’s wrong. Please.” Frank knew he sounded desperate. He didn’t give a damn.

“You can’t be here Frank,” Karen was fighting to control herself. “This war over the Blacksmith Operation and Fisk HAS to end. Too many people have died because of it. I know you’re trying to do the right thing but killing Todd Less will just add fuel to Fisk’s fire.”

Wait, what? She thought he was here tonight to kill Todd Less. No. How could he make Karen understand he was here for her?

“I KNOW you’re good Frank. And you have the chance of an after…a real goddam AFTER if you let Operation Blacksmith go. Only one of us needs to go down for this, and…it should be me.”

What…Frank couldn’t understand why Karen was saying that.

Her blue eyes burned brightly as she continued. “My negligence spawned Todd Less. My arrogance infuriated Fisk. I’m the one that deserves to be punished, so I have to fix this!”

Frank couldn’t take it. It was like he and Karen had switched roles. How could this beautiful angel who’d given him a second chance not realize she deserved an after too? He shook his head. “Stop saying that Karen. Stop. You don’t deserve to be punished. You never have.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you really knew me,” her voice was quiet.

Frank stepped closer, pulling Karen to him. “I DO know you! You deserve an after too!” His tone sounded harsher than he meant for it to be, but he had to make Karen understand.

“Why do you believe that?” she was still now. No more fighting to break free of his grasp.

“You know why,” he pleaded.

“I need you to tell me Frank.”

Something inside Frank’s chest seemed to burst. Words were stuck in this throat. He wanted to say so many things, but he’d never been good at talking about his feelings. He was good at showing people what he meant. Suddenly, Frank found himself crushing Karen to his chest. His free hand made its way to cup the back of her head…he was leaning in…and then he was kissing her. Frank Castle was kissing Karen Page.

_Dinah turned to look at Mario Bellucci. He was laughing in a demented sort of way. “Is something funny to you?”_

_The laugh on Mario’s lips faded. “You think you people are so smart, don’t you? Seizing our shipment with no evidence.”_

_Dinah felt herself growing angry. “I have the account numbers. I can prove you and Less are tied to Wilson Fisk. I can prove Operation Blacksmith is still alive._

_Mario snorted. “Yes, but where’s the physical evidence?”_

_Dinah was quiet. Beside her, the Daredevil cocked his head. “They’re not pulling anything out of those crates. I don’t hear anything,” he whispered. Suddenly, Agent Thompson yelled, “Ma’am! The crates are all empty.”_

_Dinah turned to stare at Mario. He was smiling. “Life’s full of irony isn’t it? Think about it: Isn’t it ironic that Homeland Security and the Daredevil are all the way here on the pier…while the people who’ve fought against Wilson Fisk are ALL the way on the other side of the city. **All together. All unprotected.** ” _

_Dinah’s blood ran cold. “Shit!” she heard the Daredevil curse. “Karen. Foggy.” She watched in amazement as the vigilante sprinted across the pier toward the city._

_“Have fun Daredevil,” Mario called, “But I don’t think you can run fast enough.”_

_Dinah grabbed her walkie-talkie. “Hawkeye, this is Eagle. I need you to call the 13 th precinct. Alert NYPD that…” She realized David was yelling, and not into the walkie-talkie. “Frank. Two men entered the gallery. Turn up your earpiece! Frank!”_

Frank wanted the kiss to be gentle, but it wasn’t. Karen tasted like salt and coconut and…then Frank felt Karen kissing him back. Her hands were in his hair. Her tongue was in his mouth. Then she nipped his bottom lip.

Christ.

He let out a low growl that matched Karen’s moan. He couldn’t control himself. Frank pulled Karen even closer to him, cupping her ass in his hands. He could feel her rocking against him; a friction was building that made him feel high. Frank began kissing Karen’s jawline, crowing inwardly as he heard her gasp. It was good, but he wanted more. He wanted her out of that dress. He wanted…

“FRANK!” He could faintly hear David’s voice in his earpiece, but he didn’t care. Then, a voice broke through. “KAREN!”

Like a spell broken, Frank and Karen’s heads snapped up to see Mitchell Ellison at the entrance to the gallery. A second later, he was followed by Foggy Nelson and Brett Mahoney. 

Shit.

Here he and Karen were, making out like horny teenagers. Before either could react….

 **PIINNG!** A collective scream rose from inside the gallery as gunshots rang out.


	14. Wrong Place/Right Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen and Frank unknowingly step further into Wilson Fisk’s web of deceit as they try to fight their way out of a bad situation.

_Friday, March 1 st, 9:20pm_

Scream. Gun shots. One minute, Karen had been in her own private universe kissing Frank Castle. The next minute, she’d been dropped into hell. 

“What is happening?” Karen breathed. She held onto Frank’s shoulders as though she might be carried away in the whirlwind of chaos that had spun up around them. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion: Karen heard the gun shots. She saw Ellison and Foggy duck to the side of the stairs as people ran out of the building in terror. People were crying. It was like the Bulletin massacre all over again. She couldn’t move. “Not again. Not again,” she was murmuring without even meaning to speak. Images of the newsroom and blood were flashing before her eyes. She was starting to panic.

She suddenly felt Frank’s hand on her cheek. The touch brought her back to the present. “Look at me Karen,” he said in a firm voice. She felt him pressing his forehead against hers, and for a brief moment they breathed in together. “Get Nelson and your boss. Go across the street. Stay there.” His voice was authoritative, but Karen could recognize the fear he was trying to keep at bay. 

“What are you going to do?” Her voice sounded hallow in her ears. 

“I’m going to help Mahoney.” Frank gently kissed her forehead, and then pushed her away. Karen watched as Frank ran back up the stairs following Brett. It was only then that she registered Brett’s voice; he was yelling into a small walkie-talkie, “All units: Possible gunman at Less Galleries. Corner of 42nd Street and Dyer Avenue. We need backup NOW!”

Karen watched their figures disappear into the building…and suddenly remembered Frank wasn’t armed. _“No,”_ she thought. She couldn’t let him go in there alone. “Foggy,” she yelled over her shoulder, “Stay with Ellison.” She ran back up the steps without another thought, oblivious to Foggy’s protests.

Pushing past the hoard of people rushing out of the building, Karen found herself back in the entryway. She could make out Frank, Brett, and one of Brett’s sergeants crouching behind a large potted fern. If Brett had any qualms about being on the same side in a firefight with the Punisher, he’d put those feelings aside for now. The three men were pressed together in what Karen could only assume was a tactic they’d learned in their various schools of combat training; it looked like they were scanning the room to see if the coast was clear. Karen pressed herself against the wall and watched as the men moved in unison from behind the fern to one of Todd Less’s display cases. Karen followed them with her eyes, scanning the room as well. Only then did she two bodies slumped on the floor beside the cocktail bar and three more on the steps leading to the second floor where she and Frank had danced a little over an hour ago. “ _Wilson’s hit list.”_ The thought echoed in Karen’s mind. This whole event had been a trap. A well-designed trap.

Suddenly, Karen heard another series of shots. Brett was firing from behind the display case at a large man in a black suit. The gunman stood at the entrance to the kitchen armed with a shotgun. Thankfully, the jarring light and color of the decorations around him blinded the man momentarily. He buckled at the impact of Brett’s shot. In that moment Karen watched Frank hurl himself at the gunman with a roar….yet he was no longer Frank. He was the Punisher in all his bloody glory. He pinned the gunman down with one hand, bracing him with either knee. Meanwhile, his free hand rained down on the man’s face in a series of brutal punches. The gunman’s grip on his shotgun began to slip as he gave in to the storm unleashed by the Punisher. Frank saw the shotgun fall…he grabbed it… **BAAAMMM!** A bloody pulp lay where the gunman’s head had once been.

Karen felt dizzy watching the scene. “Holy shit,” she heard Brett murmur. The room fell silent; only the wail of a police siren could be heard from outside. Brett spoke again, “That must be backup. Alright Castle….you…you need to stay where you are. Sergeant Cole: Shoot Castle if he moves.” Karen ducked behind one of the Persian rugs near the end of the entryway successfully hiding herself from Brett as he ran back out the door.

Watching Frank as he knelt over the now deceased gunman, Karen felt a flicker of worry. Had she lost Frank to the Punisher once more? Then, as Frank slowly stood up, Karen saw the slight trembling of his body. It almost looked as if he was trying not to cry. She recognized again the toll it took on Frank Castle to be the Punisher. He was not some psychopath nor was he a monster. He did not take his acts of violence lightly. Looking at the pain in his face, Karen felt her heart breaking in the same way it had in the hospital. She ran to him without another thought. Sergeant Cole, obviously spooked by the whole scene, stood mouth agape as Karen moved past him.

“Frank!”

“K-Karen?” Frank’s voice was hoarse. It was as if he was in a daze. Karen threw her arms around him in a hug and they just held each other. Neither one noticed a brief flash of light coming from the kitchen doorway.

* * *

David felt nauseous. He’d called 9-1-1 at Frank’s command. Now, all he could do was wait…wait and listen into the headset as Frank beatdown one of the gunmen. The roar of anger and pain that carried over the speaker almost burst David’s eardrums. He took off the headset for a moment to breathe and collect his thoughts. It was in that moment that his cell phone rang. _Dinah…_

“WHAT THE HELL DAVID!” she was yelling into the phone. “WHAT is going on?! I ordered you to notify me if Frank Castle ever got involved with Homeland Security business!”

David groaned. “Respectfully Dinah, Frank wasn’t trying to get involved in one of our operations. He was trying to…”

“What the fuck do you mean: He wasn’t trying to get involved!?! Todd Less’s shipment is empty! There are reports of a gunman at Less Galleries in a shootout with the Punisher! And I hear YOU talking to Frank over the walkie-talkie!” 

If David’s ears weren’t ringing before, they were now. Suddenly, he was another movement on his laptop screen. It was the drone still hovering over the gallery. He had directed it to scan the back entrance in case Frank had to make a run for it…and now David clocked a woman in an emerald green dress exiting through the caterer’s door and climbing into a black sedan. Vanessa Marianna Fisk. Why would she be sneaking out of the back when two gunmen…

_“Shit. Where’s the second guy that entered the building?”_

“Dinah, I’m sorry but I have to call you back.” David cut her off.

“Don’t you dare hang up on…” Click. 

* * *

Frank tried to steady his breathing. The adrenaline rushed out of his body as the red, fury-filled haze he was in started to dissipate. He realized with horror that he was embracing Karen as she stood in the middle of another one of his bloody messes. He dropped his arms at his sides.

“Karen…No…You shouldn’t be here right now,” Frank panted. 

He could see her eyes flash with that old stubborn flare. She took his face in her hands and locked eyes with him. “No Frank. You don’t get to kiss me like…like THAT, and then tell me to stay away. We will go somewhere and talk about this. We can argue about whether it was smart of me to come back into the building later, when we’re safe.”

“Ok. Ok,” Frank nodded. He was still trying to come back down from the frenzied high of combat. Suddenly, his earpiece squealed. “Christ!” David must have remotely turned up the volume. He was practically screaming down Frank’s eardrum. 

“FRANK! Where’s the other guy?”

_Neither of them noticed a figure appear from behind the bar, raise his M9, and…_

“What? There were two?” Frank saw Karen raise her eyebrow at the comment.

_Click._

Frank heard the familiar sound. “NO!” He lunged forward to cover Karen, as their attacker took his shot. “Gggaaahh…”he heard Karen gasp as they fell to the ground. Frank’s hands were shaking as he cradled her head. He could feel blood seeping between his fingers even as he covered her body with his. 

Behind him, Sergeant Cole opened fire stunning the gunman. Frank looked up unsure of what to do. _“God no. Please not again. Please,”_ he thought. 

Karen’s voice steadied Frank. “My comb…my comb…take it.” She was still conscious. Please god let it only be a flesh wound. 

Frank pulled the pearl comb out of Karen’s hair. Even in the dim, colored light, he could see it had a sharp edge. She had been right telling him she was “sort-of-armed.” 

_The gunman was stepping closer._

Frank tried to focus as fear and the sound of Sergeant Cole calling for Brett clouded his senses. “AAARRRHHH!” He jumped at the man, driving the knife edge of Karen’s pearl comb up into his attacker’s chest before he could take another shot. As the man’s face grew cold with his last breath, Frank felt a jolt of recognition. He was looking at the young officer from Fagan Corners PD, the annoying one who had come with Chief Bernie to Penny’s Place after Paxton was shot. “ _This whole thing has been a trap.”_

Pushing the man off of him, Frank knelt by Karen. He tried to keep his body from shaking, but he was terrified. “You-you’re going to be ok. I’m going to get you help. Just-just stay with me. Please.”

Karen nodded numbly. She was holding one hand to the space where her collar bone and right shoulder meet. Frank gathered her in his arms. “I can walk,” she began to protest. “We’ll argue about whether it was smart of me to pick you up later,” he snapped. Then into the earpiece, “David! Bring the van. NOW!”

Frank could hear Sergeant Cole yelling at him to stop as he made his way through the kitchen and out of the back entrance.

* * *

Matt was running as fast as he could. Thankfully, the sounds of multiple ambulances and police sirens heading towards 42nd Street and Dyer Avenue guided him towards Less Galleries. His heart was racing. _Foggy. Karen._ Were they ok? What had happened?

Matt guided himself to the building’s rooftop to get a better handle on the current situation. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. A wave of relief washed over him as he heard Foggy’s voice down below. The relief faded as Brett Mahoney’s voice thundered into his ears like a hurricane. He was yelling at someone.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LET CASTLE GO?! LET HIM WALTZ OUT THE BACK WITH PAGE! AND SHE WAS SHOT! GOD!!!”

“Brett, I know this not…this is not good…but don’t yell at your Sergeant,” Matt heard Foggy’s “thinking-on-my-feet” voice that he sometimes used in court. “I…I think Frank is trying to help Karen.”

Wait? What? Why the hell was Foggy calling the Punisher by his first name? Why did he think that sociopath could be of any help to Karen? Matt could sense his own pulse rising along with Brett’s.

“DON’T open your mouth Nelson. You or your friend from the Bulletin. You two are coming to the station with me. Right now, you’re suspects in this whole mess!” Matt could imagine Brett foaming at the mouth.

“We didn’t have anything to do with…”Foggy’s protest died on his lips.

“You KNEW Castle was here! Right now, I have no idea why or how he was involved in this nightmare. Sergeant Cole: Escort Mr. Nelson and Mr. Ellison to the station. You think you can handle that?”

Matt took a breath, blocking out the rest of Brett’s curses. There must be a misunderstanding. Foggy would _never_ help the Punisher. At least his best friend was safe. He’d get to the station as soon as he could, but for now Matt had to find Karen. If she’d been shot, he had to help her. He tried to relax his body and scan the area for sounds…then…he heard a deep, hoarse voice. Frank Castle was nearby. Matt scaled down the side of the building following the voice. He could hear a car engine running. He followed the car’s vibration, and the voice around it came into sharp focus. Matt could sense two…no, three bodies in or by a larger car or van. Then he heard the deep voice again:

“Karen. P-Please look up at me. Y-You’re going to be ok.” It was Frank’s voice, but he sounded _worried_. It wasn’t the same cocky tone Matt was used to hearing come from the man’s mouth. He broke into a jog as soon as his feet hit solid ground. Frank had said Karen’s name. She was with him, but why? 

Matt felt himself nearing the vehicle when another voice rang out. “Go Frank. I’ll be fine. I have the laptop and I have to get my drone. Call me once she’s safe and I’ll meet up with you.”

“Thank you, David. I…” Again, with the weird Frank-is-worried tone.

“Go. Just remember that you owe me and Sarah a Monopoly night.”

Matt heard a door shut. NO. Frank was driving away. Matt couldn’t let him leave. “CASTLE!” he yelled out. The gallery was behind him now. Matt realized he was in the middle of the street. “Castle!” He could feel the car, or maybe it was a van, moving away…but the man David was still there on the corner. Matt sensed David turn in surprise at hearing the Punisher’s name. Matt lunged at him.

“Who the hell are you? Where’s Karen Page?” Matt grabbed this David by the shoulders. He could sense the man’s surprise. “Where’s Frank Castle?”

“You again!” the man yelped. “Frank’s going to get Karen help. He had **nothing** to do with what happened inside that gallery just now.”

Matt hesitated. This David fellow sounded familiar. It was as though Matt had heard that voice earlier tonight.

“Freeze!” In that moment, Matt sensed Brett behind him. “Both of you stay there.” Matt felt David go still.

“I just saw this man let Frank Castle escape!” Matt yelled. 

“David Lieberman works for me,” a woman’s voice called out. _Rose oil_ …It was the agent Matt had run into at Pier 3. Matt could hear Brett’s heart pounding as he addressed the woman. “Madani, you better have a damn good reason why Homeland Security is crossing jurisdiction on this case.”

“I don’t…yet,” Matt sensed the woman was standing her ground. “My team was inspecting a shipment at the port, but it was a trap. Somebody wanted us far away from here when they attacked Less Galleries. David was supposed to be doing surveillance for me.” Matt realized he _had_ heard David’s voice before. He and Agent Madani were the Eagle and Hawkeye he’d heard earlier that night.

Matt felt David move. “I was Dinah, but I had to help Frank…”

“You had to HELP him!” Matt grabbed the tall figure again. Suddenly he felt furious. “You had to help him do what? Murder people.”

“Stop!” Brett yelled. “Leave it Daredevil. You weren’t here when someone opened fire, so don’t play hero now.”

Matt let David go. He felt Brett’s words like a punch in the stomach.

“Look,” Brett sighed, “Frank Castle came back into that building and helped me. He probably saved my life and a bunch of others from that second lunatic that was hiding behind the bar. The problem is: I don’t know why people were being attacked in the first place. I need Castle and Page to figure that out because when those two are together trouble always follows. Dinah, your boy David is going to join Franklin Nelson and Mitchell Ellison at the station. I have questions for them.”

Matt stepped back as he heard David agree to go to the station. Brett and Agent Madani were so busy arguing over who had jurisdiction over the shooting that he was able to slip away unnoticed. He realized he had to change his plan: He’d go back to his apartment and change into regular clothes. Then, he’d head to the station to check on Foggy and hopefully eavesdrop on whatever information Brett obtained about Frank’s motives. Once he got Foggy out of police custody, they could continue the search for Karen.

* * *

Curtis Hoyle said a silent prayer of thanks as he knelt over the couch where Karen lay. She was drifting in and out of sleep. He examined the stiches he’d given her. Luckily, the bullet had only grazed the meaty area where her collarbone and right shoulder met. Once Curt stopped the bleeding, he was able to sew it up. There was no weird coloring, and her skin felt normal. _“Thank you, God.”_

Curt had been waiting up in case David called with any news of Frank’s big night out. When Frank had knocked on his door at 11pm - tux covered in blood - holding an equally bloody Karen Page, Curt was so surprised he almost had a flashback to combat in Iraq. Luckily, his training had kicked in and with Frank’s help he was able to stabilize Karen before she lost more blood. The two men attempted to wash her face and neck and check for other wounds. Now she lay on the couch sleeping, but Curt couldn’t rest. He had Frank to worry about. His friend was pacing his small kitchen like a caged animal.

“Is her wound warm to the touch? How is her pulse?”

“Brother, she’s fine. I’m the medic not you. I will tell you if we need to worry.” Curt groaned. It was 3:30 in the morning. He wanted to sleep so bad.

“Ok…ok. I just…she…It was a trap! All of it was a trap. Karen could have died,” Frank’s eyes were bright. He didn’t finish his sentence, but Curt knew what he was thinking: “It would have been my fault.”

Curt put both hands on Frank’s shoulders. “It was NOT your fault. You had no way of knowing that whole party was a setup. Honestly, the best thing you can do right now is sleep.” He was relieved to see Frank nod. He felt a lump in his own throat as he watched his friend, so obviously in love with the woman on the couch, turn without another word, sit down, and curl up beside her. Frank was exhausted too. Curt wen to his bedroom to grab and extra blanket and pillows. He came back out to find his friend passed out. He breathed a sigh of relief, and quietly walked back to his bedroom.

The next thing Curt remembered; sun was streaming through his bedroom window. He looked at his clock. It was 11am. He could hear the sound of the TV on. His guests must already be up. He shuffled out into the living room wondering how he’d find Frank and Karen.

“Good morning folks. Frank, since you spent the night, I think it’s time I call in that I.O.U. for breakfast…” Curt let the joke die.

Frank and Karen sat on the couch, still decked out in their evening ware. They were holding hands, which Curt would have found cute, but their faces were frozen in horror at the image on Curt’s TV screen. It wasn’t pretty. A video of Frank beating down the gunman flooded the TV screen as the local newscaster’s voice told a grim tale:

_“At 9:20 last night, Frank Castle – the vigilante known as the Punisher – opened fire at a charity event hosted by Vanessa Marianna Fisk at the new Less Gallery.”_

A still image filled the screen. It was of Karen embracing Frank as he stood over the gunman’s dead body. _“Eyewitnesses believe Karen Page, investigator for Nelson, Murdock, and Page, may have aided Mr. Castle in his rampage. Their whereabouts are currently unknown.”_

Sudden silence. Karen had grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. Her face was white.

“Hey...brother,” Frank said slowly, “I think...Karen and I will have to take a raincheck on that breakfast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy seeing more of Frank’s Punisher side in action. This chapter took a lot of thought, but I’m happy with it.


	15. Question and Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Witnesses try to piece together the events that led to the shooting at Less Galleries. Meanwhile, Frank and Karen make their escape from the city.

_12 Hours Earlier…Back to Friday, March 1st at 11pm_

Foggy leaned back in one of the uncomfortable folding chairs of the NYPD’s 13 Precinct conference room trying to make himself comfortable. It wasn’t working. His side ached from slamming into Brett earlier in the evening, and his mind was racing. He should have stopped Karen from going back in the building. He should have done something besides stand by like an idiot so Brett could basically arrest him. Brett assured both him and Ellison they weren’t under arrest; instead, he had poor Sergeant Cole take them to the station, sit them down, and get them cups of poorly made coffee. Still, the detective expected answers as to why Frank Castle was at the gallery opening. How was Foggy going to explain his part in this whole thing to Brett? Hell – how would he explain it to Marci or Matt. _“Matt is going to kill me,”_ Foggy thought for the hundredth time that evening.

Foggy glanced over at Ellison who was perched in his chair in a monk-like pose. It almost looked like he was meditating. “How can you be so relaxed right now?” Foggy asked jealously. Ellison opened his eyes. “Oh, I am definitely NOT relaxed. I’m just trying to breathe deep and quiet my mind. Old reporter’s trick; helps me when I have to make sense of a bunch of facts.”

“Well, hopefully your breathing trick works quickly because I have a hell of a lot of questions.” Brett bellowed as he walked into the conference room. He was followed by a tall man with curly hair who held a laptop bag and a beautiful, dark-haired woman wearing a Kevlar vest with the words “Homeland Security” across the front of it. Neither guest was in handcuffs, but the man had a sheepish look like he was in trouble. He slumped down in the chair beside Ellison and gave a small smile. “I feel like a kid in detention all over again,” he said dryly, “Nice to meet you both. I’m David Lieberman.”

“Mitchell Ellison,” the reporter said with a gruff nod.

“Franklin Nelson,” Foggy said as he shook the man’s outstretched hand. 

“ **You’re** Franklin Nelson? Karen Page’s friend!” the man – David – seemed happily surprised. “Boy am I glad you’re alright! Frank had us worried whoever has been stalking Karen was going after….” David’s voice quieted as both men looked up to see the woman in Kevlar glaring.

“You were directed to notify me if Frank Castle contacted you,” she huffed.

David sighed, “Dinah, I promise you: Frank had NO idea about anything going on at Pier 3 or at the gallery. He got into that party to protect Karen.”

“Why would Frank Castle be concerned about Karen?” a familiar voice called out. Foggy turned his head in surprise; he’d know that voice anywhere. “Matt!”

As his friend made his way into the conference room, Foggy immediately recognized the impatient tapping of Matt’s cane. It was his friend’s way of saying “ _We’re wasting time.”_ Foggy knew Matt’s alter ego had been at Pier 3. So had Brett’s two other witnesses. Something must have happened to alert them about the shooting. 

“What the hell? Murdock how did you get in here? Did Sergeant Cole let you in?” Brett shook his head and looked out the doorway, “COLE! This isn’t a goddamn open house!!!”

“I told the good sergeant I was Mr. Nelson’s legal representative,” Matt flashed his best lawyer smile.

Brett rolled his eyes. “Fuck it. Fine. Sit down and be quiet. I’ve got a lot of questions to ask your buddy about…”

“About why Frank Castle got into a shootout at Less Galleries. I know.” Matt snapped. Foggy winced at the righteousness in his friend’s tone. He wasn’t the only one who heard it: David stood up. “Frank Castle did NOT open fire on anyone earlier tonight.”

Matt scowled, “I don’t need any more trouble from you Mr. Lieberman.” His words were met with a surprised glance. “I’m sorry…do I know you? I didn’t tell you my…”

“Folks!” Brett called out, “I’m the one running this investigation. Everyone calm down.” David sat back in his chair dejectedly. “ _Your friend is a piece of work_ ,” he muttered to Foggy. Brett stared at him for a moment before continuing. “I’m not accusing Frank Castle of anything. That man stood beside me when all hell broke loose. More people would have died if he hadn’t stepped in and taken down those two gunmen. My question is: Why were those lunatics at Less Galleries? Why did they shoot through a bunch of innocent people to get to Castle and Page? If Castle wasn’t there as the Punisher, why was he there at all?”

Foggy felt his stomach drop. He knew he had to admit to giving Frank that invitation to the gallery opening, but he had no clue where to start. Luckily, Ellison was the first to speak. “Karen Page was investigating Less Galleries for an article I assigned her. The day prior she revealed someone had been stalking her or threatening her and it was related to the assignment. That’s…”his voice faltered, “That’s all I know.” It looked like Foggy wasn’t alone in wanting to keep Karen’s feelings for Frank out of the discussion.

For the next hour and a half, everyone came forth with their version of the week’s events leading up to the gallery shooting. Foggy knew that he and Ellison were leaving out _particular_ details, and he wondered what else people weren’t sharing with the group. He tried to keep his face neutral as he watched Brett pace back and forth in front of the whiteboard he’d been writing on. 

“Ok…So Karen’s been investigating this Todd Less guy whose bank account matches the one’s Homeland Security flagged as part of Operation Blacksmith,” Brett muttered as he continued to pace. “And we’re assuming Less is connected to Wilson Fisk because his mentor in the art world is the Kingpin’s wife. Makes sense why someone could be stalking Karen. Nelson, you said the guy that attacked you Wednesday seemed to know her.”

Foggy nodded groggily, “Yeah. When Karen tried to defend us the guy said “ _You always did aim too high”_ like they’d been shooting at a gun range before.” Foggy stood up to pour himself another cup of the horrible coffee Sergeant Cole had made for the group. He didn’t really need more caffeine, but it occupied his time so that he didn’t have to look at Matt. His friend had been scowling at him like a wet cat after he’d revealed the details of the attempted attack. He could tell Matt was not happy about Frank being around to break it up. Thankfully, Brett diverted everyone’s attention.

Brett sighed, “Alright, it’s time to see the feed.” He looked pointedly at David Lieberman. David looked up at the detective blankly. His face mirrored Foggy’s anxiety. “Is that necessary?” the man squeaked.

“Yes David,” Dinah Madani snapped in a warning tone.

“I…ok…ok.” David opened his bag and pulled out a sleek laptop and small aerial device. He turned the laptop for the group to see a recording of Less Galleries at the beginning of the evening. “Foggy, will you…” Matt didn’t finish his sentence, but Foggy understood his friend’s unspoken request to narrate. “Ok…so right now it looks like people are just arriving at the party,” he whispered. Most of the feed held nothing remarkable until it clocked two men entering the building at 9pm. 

“It looks like two men entered from the back. They must have waited in the kitchen for Vanessa to end her speech,” Foggy whispered to Matt who nodded grimly.

Meanwhile David seemed more hurried. “Soooo, that’s 9pm. That’s when I first noticed the two gunmen.” He fast forwarded so quickly that Foggy couldn’t narrate. “And then at 9:20…tadaahhh! Vanessa Marianna Fisk walks out of the back as cool as a cucumber while those two men crash her party.” David’s voice seemed high as though he was nervous. 

“Well I’ll be damned. I’ll be at her penthouse with a warrant,” Brett murmured.

“I knew it!” Dinah breathed. “I knew that Fisk was involved in this.”

“Still doesn’t explain why Castle was there,” Brett said. “David: Rewind the feed. You shifted from 9pm to 9:20pm. I want to see what happened in between.” 

David looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “There’s really nothing important…”

“Go back so I can watch the whole video feed, or I will handcuff you right now.” Brett ordered. Sighing, David did as he was told.

Foggy felt an uneasiness in his stomach as he remembered running out behind Ellison to find Karen and Frank… _SHIT_. He immediately understood that David was trying to protect their privacy, but to no avail. 

“Foggy,” Matt whispered quietly. Foggy swallowed as he watched the video clip unfold. “Sure…uhhh…it looks like Karen and Frank are outside of the building talking.” Then, the image of Frank grabbing Karen filled the screen. Even from an aerial view their kiss was… **hot**. 

Brett choked on his coffee. “Goddamn!” Dinah stared open mouthed at the screen before looking down. Ellison was the only one to maintain his composure.

“Foggy, what is happening?” Matt sounded agitated.

“Uhhh…now they’re **not** talking,” Foggy muttered lamely.

“They’re kissing OK!” David snapped at Matt. “Are you happy now? There’s your proof that Frank was at the party to help Karen.”

“Help her do what?” Brett scoffed, “Find a hotel room?” He received scathing looks from both Dinah and Ellison.

Matt stood up. “I don’t…How? Why was he even there?”

“Because I gave him the second invitation,” Foggy barked unable to keep his secret any longer. “I gave it to him so he could talk to Karen.” Brett just stared at him wide-eyed. “Do you know how much faster this could have gone if you’d told me that earlier tonight?”

The two friends ignored the detective. Matt kept shaking his head back and forth at Foggy. “Wh-Why? Why? Why would you do that? WHY would YOU do THAT!?”

Foggy took a deep breath. “Matt…They’re in love with each other.” His friend’s face was white. “You can’t be serious. Frank Castle is a monster.”

Before anyone could respond to that comment, Sergeant Cole burst into the room. “What Cole?” Brett snapped, still obviously displeased with the sergeant’s earlier performance. The young sergeant cringed. “Forensics just called. They identified the two gunmen. Guy who got his head blown off was Antonio Bellucci.”

Dinah gasped. “That’s Mario Bellucci’s son. The whole family is thick as thieves with Wilson Fisk. My team has Mario in custody at Homeland now after that stunt on the pier.”Brett looked grim. “If I had known Homeland was also monitoring Mario’s Pizza, we could have stopped junior from killing innocent people. Damn bureaucratic red tape.” He sighed, “Ok Cole. Who is the second guy?” Sergeant Cole paused before answering. “The guy the Punisher stabbed in the chest was named Riley Johnson. He’s a police officer on the PD in Fagan Corners, Vermont.” 

“Holy shit,” Ellison murmured. Foggy and Matt gave a collective “What?”

“What’s so special about Fagan Corners?” Brett asked.

“Todd Less lived there when he was 18 years-old. His name was Todd Neiman back then,” Dinah whispered.

“And Karen lived there too.” Matt spat the words out as he rushed towards the door. “She grew up there.”

Foggy jumped up. “Matt, where are going?”

“DON’T talk to me right now!” Matt yelled slamming his cane down for emphasis. “I’m going to see if Karen returned to her apartment.”

“But Matt…”

“DON’T!” The door slammed behind him. There was a moment of silence before David quipped, “I don’t think your buddy is going to be up for double date with Frank and Karen anytime soon.” This time he received Dinah’s withering stare.

Brett put a hand on Foggy’s shoulder to keep him from following Matt. “Sorry Nelson, but I’ve still got questions.”

* * *

_9 Hours Earlier on Saturday, March 2 nd at 1am_

Vanessa Marianna Fisk took another sip of her chamomile tea and stretched out on the chase lounge in her living room. Looking out the large glass window of her penthouse on the 40th story, Vanessa could clearly see the glow of police lights still parked outside Less Galleries far down below. She smiled. _Wilson will be pleased._ The night had not gone quite as planned, but they’d made things work. Glancing down at her iPad, she felt a thrill watching the video of Frank Castle beat down Antonio Bellucci. “I must admit Todd: You were quite stealthy getting that footage. Good work.”

Sitting at the corner of her large marble counter, face still black and blue from his run in with the Punisher on Wednesday, Todd Less smiled. “I told you not to worry. Our contacts at Channel 5 News and the Times have already been sent the footage of Castle and Page. Any information Karen Page found in the office will be null and void when our version of events goes out on the morning news.” He paused, raising an eyebrow. “I’m curious...Why did your husband OK Mario’s son to go in there tonight if he suspected the Punisher may appear?”

Vanessa gave a cold smile. “The Bellucci Family have become a thorn in our side. Asking for too big a cut from Operation Blacksmith. Mario is in custody now and his son is dead. That sends a clear message to stay in line.” Vanessa studied Todd Less for a moment. “I could ask you the same question. Why did you send your good friend Riley Johnson like a lamb to the slaughter?”

Todd took a sip of tea before answering. “Sometimes sacrifices have to be made to get what you want.”

Vanessa smiled. “Yes…sometimes they do. Now get out of my apartment. I’ll let Wilson know I’m happy with your performance tonight.” Todd Less stood up with a huff and left without another word. Vanessa shrugged and looked back out at the city. “ _Yes, sacrifices will be made Todd.”_

* * *

_Back to the Present_

Karen splashed her face with cold water and looked in the bathroom mirror. For someone who’d been shot the night prior, she didn’t look too haggard. Her hair still held some of the bounce from last night’s updo. It was a vain thought, but she couldn’t help it. Karen knew that her looks shouldn’t matter right now, not when she and Frank were being accused of the murdering innocent people at Less Galleries. Still, the part of her brain that remembered kissing Frank was now hyper aware of every glance and every touch of his hand. Vain or not, that part of her wanted to look beautiful to him. Curtis had given her strict orders not to shower until the evening to ensure the stitches were secure and in place. That mean she had to make do with a bird bath until she and Frank made it to… _wherever_ they were going to find safety. Giving herself a once over in the pale blue sweatshirt and leggings Curt had rushed to the procure from the nearby City Target, Karen took a deep breath. _“Ok. You and Frank have helped each other out before. Last night changes nothing,”_ she told herself…even though she knew it was a lie.

Walking out of Curt’s bathroom, Karen saw Curt and Frank inventorying a travel first aid kit. Curt’s back was to Karen, but she could hear him clearly pleading with Frank. “I know you’ve got stuff at whatever fox hole you’ve made for yourself, but please take this just in case.”

“Fine. If it will make you feel better, I will take the first aid kit,” Frank huffed impatiently. He looked up as Karen entered the living room, and she saw the crinkles at the corner of his eyes that she knew to be the “Frank Castle smile.” Suddenly, he looked down at something Curt passed him for the first aid kit. “Jesus! Curt!” Frank yelped and quickly closed the lid. His face was beet red.

“Just take the damn things!” Curt’s voice held a note of amusement. Frank, still blushing, gestured in Karen’s direction. Curt spun around so quickly Karen didn’t have a chance to ask what was going on. He looked a little sheepish. “Hey there! Hope that stuff fits. Frank can barrow my clothes to go on the run, but I don’t have anything in your size.”

Karen smiled, “For a five-minute sprint to City Target you did good. Anything is better than a bloody evening gown.”

“Yeah Curt. Add this and the supplies you bought to the list of I.O.U’s,” Frank said. He seemed to have regained his composure. “Now we better get out of her before NYPD or anyone of Fisk’s goons come to call.”

“Not in that _murder wagon_ you won’t,” Curt chided as he held up a set of keys. “Take my truck. I won’t need it for a few days.”

Frank ignored Karen’s chuckle at the mention of a murder wagon. “Curt I can’t take your truck.”

“Do it. Someone might be looking for you in that hunk of junk. Leave that death trap parked those two blocks down, and I’ll walk by it occasionally to check on it.” Curt’s voice was firm.

Karen felt the familiar mixture of pride and sadness she always felt seeing Frank Castle with his walls down. He was blinking rapidly at his friend and his eyes looked a little bright as he took the keys. “Thank you brother.” He paused for a moment before looking at Karen. His gaze was almost shy. “Uuuhh…we’d better get going.”

Karen tried to keep a sappy smile from spreading across her face at the word “we.” It didn’t take much as another newscaster’s voice carried over from the NPR station Curt had blasting on his iPhone. She cringed hearing the words _Karen Page_ , _Union Allied_ , and _Bulletin_. After the initial shock of this morning’s news, they had tried to listen for any updated or real information on the Less Gallery shooting; however, all of the news stations were simply making conjectures about how Frank and Karen had become unstable. Karen wanted to get on the road before any of her lesser known skeletons came out of the closet on NPR or Channel 5. “Let’s go,” she said firmly.

As soon as they pulled away from Curt’s apartment, a strange, questioning silence fell between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable or hurried…Karen felt like they were both reflecting on the subtle and not so subtle change that had taken place in their interactions over the past week. It **was** killing Karen not to talk about the kiss, but she knew now was not the right time. 

Her face must have shown some discomfort because Frank glanced at her. “You feeling alright?” he asked softly. The guilt over her getting shot was written all over his face. She squeezed his forearm reassuringly. “I feel fine…The only thing that hurts right now are my ears. I can’t believe Curt only has AM/FM radio in this truck…and it’s on a country station! What is this? This drive better be quick because I don’t think I can take it!” She hoped her joke eased his mind.

Frank gave a low chuckle. “This is Johnny Cash. Don’t tell me you’re a Kanye West, Taylor Swift, pop kind of gal.”

Karen gave a mocking gasp. “Only when I’m buzzed! How dare you criticize my musical taste!” She pulled out her cell phone, thankful Frank had grabbed her purse during last night’s events. Ignoring the 15 or so texts from Foggy and 20 missed calls from Matt, Karen began to play music from her phone. She and Frank proceeded to debate as to whether Fleetwood Mac or Cat Stevens would be more relaxing music for two people on the run. They settled on Cat Stevens.

As Karen relaxed in the truck, she noted Frank making a couple of loops and U-turns in case they were being followed. Eventually, they began driving in the same direction as the Metro North Railroad tracks heading towards the state line with Connecticut. They city gave way to abandoned buildings, trees, and marshland. Karen was surprised when Frank turned down a dirt road, and looked at him. Frank was glancing at her sideways in that shy way again. Where were they going?

They truck slowed as they made their way to the middle of a pocket of pine trees near the Marshland Conservatory. Karen realized they were heading towards an abandoned warehouse that must have been used by the Forestry Department at one time. She watched curiously as Frank pulled a garaged door opener out of his pocket, and pressed a button opening a garage door at the end of the warehouse. Frank drove the truck inside and parked in what looked like a large garage. He jumped out of the truck and said softly, “Stay here.” Karen watched Frank disappear through a door leading to the main warehouse. He returned a few moments later with a more relaxed look on his face. “We’re good. Had to make sure no one else stumbled on this place.” He offered Karen his hand as she stepped down from the truck. Walking towards the door, she noticed boxes of what looked like artillery and firearms. 

Stepping into the soft glow from an Edison lightbulb hanging overhead, Karen let out a soft gasp. The warehouse had been converted into an apartment of sorts. A simple grey couch and multicolored rug were placed to one side to the room. The only decoration beside it being a homemade wooden bookshelf. At the other side of the room was a simple stove, refrigerator, and wood table. Karen was surprised to see a bowl of apples, a coffeemaker and a few mugs, and a copper frying pan placed neatly on the table. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room noting the metal stairwell leading to what must have been the warehouse office at one time but had been made into a loft. She could just barely see a simple bed covered with a bluish grey quilt and a wooden crate-turned-nightstand. She turned to Frank with a look of wonder and realized he was staring at her nervously.

“So…what do you think?” he asked.

Karen looked around again. “Frank, what is this place?”

He hesitated. “Well…I sort of…I live here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone want to guess what Curt passed Frank for the first aid kit? ;)


	16. Safe Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Karen find a safe place to talk…among other things ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You were alone, left out in the cold.  
> Clinging to the ruin of your broken home.  
> To lost and hurting to carry your load.  
> We all need someone to hold.”  
> ~ Someone to Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic

Brett Mahoney glared at the cup of coffee in front of him. It was around 2pm on Saturday, and he had not slept in over 32 hours. The damned caffeine was no longer working; Brett was running on pure adrenaline now. After nearly two hours of questioning Nelson, Ellison, and Lieberman, Brett attempted to write his report of the gallery shooting. He hated the administrative side of things he had to partake in as a detective. He desperately wanted to be out on the street either looking for signs of Castle and Page or knocking on Vanessa Marianna Fisk’s door to question her. There was no evidence of where the former two had vanished, and he needed a warrant to pursue Vanessa. Waiting for the powers that be to issue a warrant was like watching paint dry. The word “Fisk” seemed to magically slow down any process. 

Brett begrudgingly opted to write his report while waiting, but there were plenty of interruptions. The team he’d sent to case Page’s apartment had found Murdock waiting around for his friend. Brett had to stop writing to go over and explain to his team why Murdock was not a suspect in the case. Then he’d yelled at the lawyer for trying to play detective. Once he’d put that fire out, Brett had tried to return to his work, but he couldn’t focus. He was too worried about Karen Page. As much as he’d butted heads with that stubborn woman over the years, Brett respected her. She’d stuck her neck out for the good of others on multiple occasions for no personal gain. Brett always suspected she was trying to atone for something in her past. That was the reason Brett could come up with as to why Page advocated for gruesome head cases like Frank Castle…yet he was no longer sure Castle was the unhinged vigilante the world made him out to be. Truth be told, Brett felt unnerved remembering how Castle had stepped up to help him secure the shooters at Less Galleries. He’d seen first-hand the decency and honor Page always talked about. Maybe there was more to Frank than…

The ringing of Brett’s cell phone brought him back to the present moment. He looked down, surprised to see Mitchell Ellison’s name on the caller ID. He thought the reporter would be asleep after the late night of questioning. He picked up on the second ring. “Everything ok Ellison? Any word from Page?”

“Everything is **NOT** ok!!!!” came a furious voice. “Did you or that sergeant of yours talk to Channel 5 News or the Times?”

“What? No. What happened?” Brett was genuinely confused.

“Turn on the damn TV in your office,” Ellison snapped.

Brett did, and he felt his stomach drop. Images of Frank Castle taking down one of the gunmen flooded the TV along with some bogus story of him being the one to open fire at Less Galleries. Brett was dumfounded. “Ellison, my team only released a statement regarding the occurrence of a shooting. We haven’t finished the official report yet; I can’t say anything to the media until then.”

“Exactly! This has Vanessa Marianna Fisk written all over it! This isn’t news; it’s bullshit!” the reporter howled. “My weekend crew is working on a story of the FACTS as we know them now, but it won’t do any good. Have you been able to question that woman yet?”

Brett sighed. He could tell Ellison was feeling helpless and angry at not being able to protect Page. It was obvious the man cared for her like a daughter. “I’m still waiting on clearance to confront Mrs. Fisk. I’ll let you know when anything changes.” He paused for a moment. “But Ellison…I need YOU to let ME know if you get any new information, or if you remember **anything** you didn’t share last night. No playing cops and trying to find Karen Page and Frank Castle yourself. Tell that to your buddy Nelson too.”

Silence. Then a mumbled, “Ok.”

Hanging up the phone, Brett rested his head in his hands. Someone wanted Castle and Page to take the fall for killing those innocent people last night. Why? He looked the image that now appeared on his TV screen. It was one of the few pictures from Frank Castle’s trial from a few years back. Frank had his best thousand-yard stare on as he sat in the courtroom, but his body was turned slightly towards Page. Brett could clearly see now the connection that had formed between them. _“Wherever you two are right now, I hope you’re safe.”_

* * *

Karen gazed at Frank in wide-eyed amazement. “You live **here**? You drive in and out of the city in that murder waggg…er…old van to case out Hell’s Kitchen.”

Frank hesitated. He felt like a high schooler bringing his crush home to meet the parents. “Sort of…I rent a crappy little studio apartment in the city to sleep at on nights when I’m… _working_. I also crash there when I take on construction work in between missions. I found this place a while back and figured I could use it to store my _work stuff_. I come here when I need to lay low after a job or when I need to think. Sometimes the city gets to be too much. Too many people. Too much noise. This place was abandoned, so I decided to make use of it.” He paused before adding softly, “Everything I care about is here.”

Karen’s voice was soft too. “I appreciate you trusting me enough to bring me here.” They were both silent for a moment, as the unsaid questions floated around them in the air. Finally, Karen spoke, “So, this is like the Punisher’s version of a bat-cave. It’s your artillery-laden bat-cave.” Frank could tell she was pleased at having clocked the hardware he kept in the garage. Her reporter-like enthusiasm was cute. He chuckled, “It’s not a bat-cave. I’m not Bat Man. Also, there’s more than artillery here. Take a look around.”

To Frank’s pride and amusement, Karen did just that. He watched as she examined his bookshelf exclaiming, “ _The Count of Monte Cristo_! _The Things They Carried_! You’ve read these? Did you make this bookshelf?!” 

He tried to keep a straight face. “Marines do read you know. Curt gave me those books; said it would do me some good to read them. I didn’t want his stuff lying on the floor, so I snagged some discarded wood from the last construction site I worked and put it to good use.” Karen nodded approvingly.

Frank knew he should be checking the news to see if any new – make that any **real** – developments regarding the Less Galleries shooting had occurred. Instead, he stood back contently and watched Karen slowly make her way around his living space. He couldn’t help it – those leggings Curt had grabbed from Target made it too distracting to focus on anything else. That had probably been Curt’s intention too – _jackass_. 

Karen ended her inspection at the refrigerator. Opening the door, she looked like a kid who just found presents on Christmas morning. “Frank! Your fridge has real food in it! How do you even have the time to cook?”

Frank chuckled, “Well ma’am, given my line of work I’ve got to take care of my body. Take out won’t do. Not that I’m opposed to a MRE once in a while, but that’s only under dire circumstances.”

Karen gaped at him, clearly impressed. Suddenly, her face turned red as a gurgling sound filled the room. She looked down at her stomach in horror and then up in shock at Frank who was laughing. “Are-are you hungry?” he huffed between bouts of laughter. He loved the bashful nod she gave him. “I haven’t eaten since well before the gallery opening last night.”

Frank moved towards the stove grabbing a package of rice from the shelf above it. “Well hand me the eggs and vegetables you see in there. Got to use them up anyway; might as well make us some fried rice. There’s some sesame oil in the fridge. Hand that over too.”

Karen did as she was told, but the look on her face made Frank pause. She almost looked sad. 

“You ok?” he asked quietly.

Karen blinked rapidly as she looked at him. “Yeah…It’s just…it feels really good to laugh, and I….that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh like that.”

Frank looked down, processing her words. “Guess it’s the first time I’ve wanted to laugh in a while. I’m glad…you’re the one to hear it.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as they made their meal. Frank took the lead cooking while Karen chopped and prepped as he requested. It felt both odd and comforting to Frank to be doing something so simple and domestic. Hell, when was the last time he’d cooked a meal for someone? It felt… **good**. Bantering back and forth with Karen about the pros and cons of take out versus homemade food, Frank allowed himself to wonder if he really did deserve something good in his life again. 

Once they finished their meal, Karen suggested they look for any updates on the gallery shooting. She turned on the small radio Frank had tucked away by the bookshelf; Frank didn’t have a TV in the warehouse. “You are an _old-fashioned-kind-of-guy_ ,” she quipped as she scanned for the local new station. They listened warily to see if any truth about Friday’s events had aired; instead, Frank heard the radio announcer going over the list of his known and hypothetical vigilante exploits. 

_“We know the guy killed 37 people connected to the Irish mob and the DA. Then there were those four women five months ago. What about friends he served with in the Marine Corps? Veterans who’ve just disappeared off the face of the earth. Supposedly some anonymous source is now claiming he killed the long-lost CEO of Anvil; remember that elite private security firm. Remember CEO Billy Russo. Whatever happened to that guy? It’s like Frank Castle shows up in someone’s life and wreaks havoc. The guy is-”_

Karen turned off the radio. Her face was flushed with anger. “Todd Less is a bastard,” she hissed. “He’s trying to drag your name in the mud too. You know not all of that is true Frank. You KNOW it.”

Frank looked down at the kitchen table. He felt an aching shame coursing through his body. “But it is true that I killed my best friend Karen,” he whispered. “Billy had my back…and then to find out he was actually involved in what happened to Maria and the kids. I hate who he became…but I miss my friend. I…” He couldn’t finish. 

Karen’s hand on his shoulder soothed him. He looked at her face and saw her blue eyes shining with the openness and understanding they’d held the first time they met. Frank realized Karen’s willingness to stomach his acts of violence came not just from her compassionate spirt, but from a history of her own trauma. He grabbed her hand, gently rubbing circles into her palm as she sat down beside him. “Let’s talk,” she said.

The hours flew by as they exchanged stories. Frank spoke of the Marine Corps and Curt; of meeting Billy; joining the Cerberus Unit; and how Karen led him to David Lieberman. Karen described coming to New York City; her work at Union Allied; and getting framed by Wilson Fisk. Frank told her about meeting Amy and finally putting Billy down. Karen shared how she met Matt and Foggy; told him of the fake Daredevil; and struggled to recount the Bulletin massacre. As they shared stories, Frank realized Karen was holding something back. She’d mentioned Union Allied but nothing of how she’d gotten involved with James Wesley. Nothing of how she knew Todd Less. He waited patiently for her to bring it up.

“After all of that, we have to deal with Todd Less and his need for revenge,” Karen mused. “I guess the best thing to do would be to send David and Madani the files I uncovered at the party. Then I can…find out from Ellison if another informant has called.”

Frank narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Karen looked down hesitantly. “I think Todd Less may have evidence in a part I played to take down Fisk. A video recording from Fisk’s old penthouse. Someone called Ellison last week saying they wanted to give it to the newspapers. I need…to intercept that recording.”

Frank felt his stomach knot with concern and frustration at Karen’s stubborn insistence she put herself in harm’s way. He grabbed her wrist forcing her to look at him in the eyes. “Are you **trying** to get yourself killed? You already told Fisk you killed his right-hand man. Why the hell do you think waltzing into some meeting that his new star pupil sets up is a good idea?”

Karen met Frank’s gaze with that familiar stubborn gleam. “How do you know about James Wesley?”

“David was able to trace the video in the FBI’s deleted files. We thought it might give us a clue as to who was trying to mess with you,” Frank stated matter-of-factly.

Karen swallowed. “You have your code of honor Frank, and I respect that. I need you to respect mine. I’ve made some mistakes, and I have to deal with the consequences.”

Frank stood up without meaning to. He was seething with frustration. “Getting yourself killed WON’T be dealing with anything. And what do you mean “code of honor”? I’m a monster Karen.”

Karen stood up too. She refused to bulk at his anger. “You want to talk about monsters Frank? Well, I was a drug dealer my senior year of high school. My mother had died of cancer and I thought the best way to appease my abusive father and care for Kevin was by selling my stash of Zoloft pills. Then I met Todd Neiman; he was all too happy to take someone under his wing. Todd taught me how to deal coke and undercut the buyer; he taught me how to shoot in case we ever had a bad deal; he taught me a lot. The **monstrous** part: I didn’t care that I was losing touch with my little brother or cheating other people for their money.” Karen paused, her voice was shaking now. “I was such a monster that I got drunk and high after my brother pleaded with me to go to college. I didn’t care about anyone else. When Kevin came to get me away from Todd, they…they fought. I shot Todd Neiman in the arm without a second thought. Then I pushed Kevin in the car and drove…I drove until….I…hit…” Her voice broke into a sob. “I’m the one who’s the monster,” she whispered.

Frank felt all of the worry and frustration drain out of him. He could see the self-loathing and shame he felt reflected in her eyes. He pulled her into a hug. “ _You’ll never be a monster to me_.” They stayed pressed together for a few moments, foreheads touching, steadying each other amid the waves of sadness and loss washing over them. Frank felt Karen begin to still in his arms, and he looked down at her to see those ocean eyes shining with the unspoken question. “ _Why did you come back Frank_?” He knew he should tell her why, but he was terrified. Sensing his hesitation, Karen broke from their embrace.

“I…uhhh…I could really use a shower.”

Frank nodded. He knew “shower” was code for “ _I need to be alone right now”._ Maria used to do that too. “Let me get you a clean towel and a t-shirt to sleep in. We may be here another day.”

Karen followed him up the stairs to the make-shift loft in silence. Frank could tell she was still upset by their earlier conversation, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d pushed Karen away on numerous time, yet she showed up brave and vulnerable and open every time he waltzed back into her life. He owed her an answer to the question she’d been asking since they reunited in Vermont. Hopefully her shower would give him time to sort his thoughts. 

Frank grabbed a black t-shirt from the wooden crate at the foot of his bed. He felt a wave of relief to see Karen look approvingly around the loft. “You took a lot of wood from that last construction site, huh?”

He smiled ruefully, “I didn’t. Pete Castiglione did. Hopefully this will work.” He handed the shirt to Karen noticing her eyes scan over the nightstand as she grabbed it. “I’ll uhhh…let you get to your shower.” Frank turned without meeting Karen’s gaze.

Heading back downstairs, Frank sat down on the lumpy Ikea couch he’d assembled and put his head in his hands. He felt mentally exhausted. Bad enough that his mind kept replaying what was said on the radio. Now the sound of the shower led Frank to imagine what Karen might look like standing underneath it. _He wanted to…no…he couldn’t tell her how he…now was not the right time_. They were probably wanted by the state of New York at this point. Frank had to focus on their current situation.

Frank was so lost in thought that the sound of his phone ringing made him jump. He looked at the number. It was David. “Hey,” he muttered into the phone.

“HEY?” came a harsh whisper. “Your name is being plastered all over the media; people are saying you brainwashed Karen; and I spent 9 hours of my life at the police station defending your ass…and all you can say to me is _‘hey’_!!!”

“I’m sorry David,” Frank cringed. “I’m just…There’s a lot on my mind.”

“It’s ok,” David seemed to calm down. “Are you two alright?”

“Yeah, we’re safe. Going to lay low for a few days until we can figure out how to get out of this mess. Wait…why are you whispering?”

“I’m whispering because Sarah will FLIP OUT if she finds me on the phone right now. When I didn’t come home Friday night, she thought for sure I was a victim in the gallery shooting. She told me I had to take a time out to be with the family regardless of work.”

Frank gave a chuckle. “Smart woman. Sorry I put you in the doghouse.”

He could almost picture David’s smirk as he spoke, “It’s ok. The make-up sex is worth it.”

“Now that I have that horrific image of you in my mind, I will let you go,” Frank quipped. “I’m so tired I’m about to pass out on my couch.” 

There was sudden silence followed by David giving a firm, “Hell. No.”

“Excuse me?” Frank was confused.

“Frank Castle, you WILL NOT just go to sleep on your couch after what happened between you and Karen last night.”

“You caught that on your drone,” Frank felt himself blushing.

“In high definition. You idiot. You probably avoided talking about that kiss,” David said with a mixture of annoyance and mirth.

“Uuuhhh,” Frank responded lamely.

“Frank, I’m giving you one warning. Hang up the phone and go tell Karen how you feel. If I find out you’ve fucked up your one opportunity to be lay your feelings out on the table, I swear to you: I will trace this phone call. I will find you. I will lock you both in a closet until you’ve talked like adults about this…thing…between you two.” David sounded dead serious.

Frank swallowed. Thank god he had friends to call him out on his bullshit. “I…you’re right. I’ll talk to her.”

“GO,” David bellowed forgetting he was supposed to be whispering. He hung up.

Frank heard the shower turn off. It was now or never.

* * *

Karen stood in the shower for a moment letting the steam wrap around her like a blanket. Even though the shower was stark and small, it felt like she’d been to the spa after a night of hell. She appreciated Curt for grabbing some travel shampoo on his supply run. He’d joked that Frank couldn’t be trusted to have more than a bar of soap.

Frank. Now that Karen’s mind was calm, she could focus on the real problem. Forget being wanted by the police. Forget that Todd Less was still out there. How was she going to talk to Frank about their kiss? The feelings she’d buried and denied for so long were strong and clear here, standing in his space, wearing his t-shirt. The question was: How did Frank feel about her? There were times, like in the elevator, that Karen believed Frank loved her too. Yet he was so quick to push her away. Did he really come to her aid at Less Galleries because of love…or was he still seeking revenge for all of the horrors of Operation Blacksmith, Billy Russo, and Fisk? Was he there for her, or was he waiting to kill Todd Less? Karen took a deep breath. Either way, she had to talk to him.

Stepping out into the makeshift bedroom, Karen’s eyes fell on the nightstand Frank had built. There was a picture propped up by a book and some newspaper clippings littering the stand. Karen knew the faces in the picture before she fully studied it: Maria, Lisa, and Frankie Jr. It was the picture she’d stolen from Frank’s home and then returned to him the night they first met. She often imagined their faces when she wondered if Frank could find it in himself to have an “after.” _“Everything I care about is here,”_ he’d told her. For some reason picturing Frank’s family felt comforting. A reminder there was good in the world...good she’d never experienced with her own family.

Karen was about to continue downstairs when her eyes fell on the stack of newspaper clippings. Something about the byline was familiar. Karen gingerly picked up the clipping on top of the stack, and her heart skipped a beat. The article was familiar because it was _her_ writing. Thumbing through the stack, Karen felt herself beginning to cry. The articles were hers. Every. Single. One. _“Everything I care about is here.”_

Hearing a soft shuffle, Karen looked up. Frank stood at the top step leading to the loft. He was staring at her in a way that made her tremble: Like she was precious. “You…you have my articles,” Karen breathed. It was more of a question than a statement. 

Frank nodded, his eyes never leaving her. “I would cut them out of the paper or have David email me links to the e-copies when I was on the road with the kid. Then I found hard copies of when I got back to New York.”

“You even have my recent ones. I thought…when I left you and my shoes at the hospital…” Karen couldn’t finish.

Frank closed his eyes for a moment. “When we first met, I’d killed 37 people Karen. Not because I liked it but because it was the quickest way that I could think of to die. I’d tried to put a bullet in my own head a couple times after losing Maria and the kids, but I was too scared. I figured the law would finish the job by giving me the death penalty. That’s what I prayed for: To die.” He paused for a moment. The memory was painful. “Then…I met you. You shoved that picture in my face and forced me to remember what it was like to feel happiness. Telling you about my family and listening to you talk about your spaceship made me feel human again….And that scared me. Being human, loving someone, it meant I could also feel loss again. So…I tried to push you away. Told myself it was safer if I wasn’t in your life. I ran. I tried to be someone else. I tried everything, but it didn’t work because you were **_always_** on my mind. It didn’t matter whether it was your newspaper articles or you physically there to chew my ass out for being an idiot. Karen, you are the only thing that gives me hope.”

Karen nodded. Her heart was pounding as he spoke.

“When I saw your face in that diner, I saw the same loss I’d felt. I knew you’d been trying to get yourself killed even if you wouldn’t admit it…but I won’t let you. I won’t let the one person who saved my life throw their own away. I’m NOT giving up on you Karen. That’s why…that’s why I came back.”

For a moment, they let the silence hang between them. Then, Karen stepped forward meeting Frank’s searing gaze without fear. She had her answer and knew what she wanted to do. Karen took Frank’s face in her hands.

“Wha-what are you doing?” he whispered.

“Using two hands and not letting go,” she said softly. Then she kissed him. It was a soft kiss. Their lips were gentler than the night before as they explored one another. Karen slowly dropped her hands from Frank’s face and traced his chest with her fingertips. It gave her a little thrill to hear his breath hitch. She gripped the edges of his shirt and slowly pulled the material over his head. Frank paused in his exploration of her lips, but he didn’t protest as Karen’s eyes scanned his well-built chest and abs. His pupils held a hungry look as he realized Karen was checking him out. He leaned into kiss her again and this time Karen felt his desire.

She stepped backwards leading them towards the bed only stopping as Frank slid his hands down her torso. Karen smiled as she felt Frank’s hand hesitate near her hip points. He’d now realized she wasn’t wearing anything under his t-shirt. Their lips parted again, and Karen found herself looking into Frank’s coffee colored eyes. They were full of lust and a little fear.

“Karen…Are you sure you want this?” Frank’s voice was hoarse. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop if we…”

The words died on Frank’s lips as he watched Karen pull the t-shirt she wore over her head and discard it on the floor. She was completely bare before him now. 

A strangled moan escaped Frank’s throat, yet he stood before Karen frozen as if afraid to touch her. Karen slowly dropped to her knees and began undoing his belt, sure of what she wanted. The movement seemed to jolt Frank into action. He gently lifted her upright and guided her to lay on the bed. “Not like that. Not tonight,” he breathed, “I want to take my time with you.” Frank stripped off the last of his clothes and came to hover protectively over Karen. This time she was the one to moan as she took in all of Frank Castle. _Damn that man_. She wondered if he could read her thoughts, because he flashed that sexy smirk of his.

Karen slowly nodded and Frank went to work. He let one hand trace the slope of her breasts while the other gently drew lines along her body. Karen trembled as Frank let his gaze linger wherever he wanted…but it was nothing compared to the electricity she felt as he began to kiss her. Frank left a trail of kisses from her jaw all the way down her torso. Karen struggled to keep her breathing even as Frank’s mouth found the sensitive spot between her legs. He was meticulous noting every moan and gasp Karen gave as he flicked his tongue in her. Karen began to feel a warm tingling at the base of her spine and hissed his name, “ _Fuck Frank_.” She heard him chuckle happily and then gasped as he dove two fingers deep into her. He began pulsing them in a slow rhythm leading Karen over her edge.

Frank bent over to whisper in her ear, but his voice was drowned out by Karen’s cries. He kissed her softly as she returned to earth, but Karen could hear his breathing becoming more uneven. “ _Karen…I need_ …”

“Yes. God yes,” was all she could murmur.

Frank rolled over to grasp something from under the bed. Karen heard the click of the first aid kit and laughed softly as he produced a condom. She watched Frank secure the condom in place, her body growing hotter as she waited. Then, as Frank sank into her, Karen lost all means of rational thought. She could hear him moan as he buried his head in her chest. Frank began thrusting deeply into Karen making her see stars. She wrapped her arms and legs around his body and held on tightly as she felt another orgasm building. Frank rode the wave with her this time, his thrusts becoming more urgent. From some far-away place Karen could hear Frank call out her name as he came.

Afterwards, they lay quietly still locked in their embrace. Karen found it sweet to watch Frank run his fingers through her hair. He whispered quietly, “Are you ok?”

She smiled up at him, “Better than ok.”

As Karen began to fall asleep curled up in Frank’s arm, she vaguely felt him lean over to kiss her temple. In her sleepy haze, Karen thought she heard him whisper, “I love you Karen Page” but she couldn’t be sure. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were together. They were safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Frank keeping all of Karen’s articles has me thinking of a little prequel...maybe when this story is finished.


	17. Hide Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen and Frank hide away from the world as friend and foe search for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He said “I am the devil boy, come with me  
> And we’ll make many storms”  
> He offered me the universe,  
> But inside my heart there’s a picture of a girl…  
> The Devils Tears ~ Angus&Julia Stone

Foggy shivered in the Sunday morning rain. At least he told himself it was the weather that sent a chill up his spine and not the fact that he was approaching Matt’s apartment. Once he’d finally been released from questioning Saturday, he had raced to Marci’s place. He spent the rest of the day explaining why he’d lied about only having one invitation to Todd Less’s gallery opening. Luckily, Marci was a romantic at heart. Describing the Punisher’s – _er…Frank’s…he had to think of him as Frank now_ – tenderness for Karen in as much detail as possible saved Foggy from being in deep trouble with his girlfriend. He wasn’t so sure the same tactic would work when confronting Matt. Correction, he KNEW the same tactic wouldn’t work. 

Foggy walked up the stairs of Matt’s old building quietly, but picked up the pace when he remembered that his friend could probably hear and recognize his footsteps. He paused for a moment outside Matt’s door and took a deep breath. _“Time to plead my case for lying to my best friend,_ ” Foggy thought. He used the spare key Matt had given him to open the door and walked into the spacious studio apartment. Gazing around the room, Foggy squinted. The sun had barely risen, yet it was somewhat dark. He reminded himself that Matt never turned on any lights because he didn’t need to. “Matt,” he called out softly. “Matt are you awake?”

“I’ve been up for a while Foggy,” came Matt’s voice. Foggy turned to find his friend standing at the large window across from his kitchen area. His body was pointed in the direction on the window; he was listening to the rain. Studying Matt, Foggy recognized that his friend looked as emotionally drained and worn down as when he returned from Midland Circle. 

Foggy approached his friend slowly. “Brett called me yesterday. He said his team found you at Karen’s apartment yesterday.”

Matt was quiet for a moment; he continued to face the window as though he had not heard Foggy. After what Foggy felt like was one hundred years, Matt spoke. “She hasn’t been back to her apartment,” he murmured. “I couldn’t smell her perfume, her shampoo, anything…I called the local hospitals to see if Castle had brought her in for medical care, but no one has any record of a Karen Page being dropped off at their emergency room. I’ve been listening and trying to hear her voice, but there’s nothing. It’s like she disappeared.”

Foggy swallowed. He was worried about Karen too. “Well…whoever Wilson and Vanessa Fisk have on their pay roll at Channel 5 News made sure to drag Karen’s name through the mud. Maybe she and Frank are hiding out for a while.” Foggy immediately regretted mentioning Frank’s name.

Matt stiffened. “I can’t hear Castle either.” Silence…and then Matt asked the dreaded question: “How long have you known Karen was communicating with Frank?”

Foggy struggled to find the right words. “I-I found out about it last Wednesday, but…I’ve suspected something since…since around the time you disappeared. Karen was involved in a hostage situation at the Royal Hospitality when she was working full-time at the Bulletin. She’d gone to the hotel to interview Senator Ori, and a troubled young veteran showed up with a bomb. The news and the police insinuated that Frank…er…Castle was involved in taking the bomber down. I went to check on Karen after I heard about the incident on the news, and she…she didn’t seem surprised that Fraa…Castle was back from the dead. It almost felt like she’d known he was alive.”

Matt continued to stare at the window. Foggy swallowed and then continued, “I didn’t want to lie to you Matt. I just felt that this… _thing_ …between Karen and Frank ( _crap he’d said the name again_ ) was personal. She was so emotional after he stepped in to save us from getting shot in the alley, and Frank was the same way when I confronted him about it. I guess…I just…I want….I want Karen to be happy even if that means she’s with Frank Castle.”

“Do you really believe they’re in love?” Matt’s tone was less cold now. He almost sounded… _regretful._

Foggy moved closer to his friend and put a hand on his shoulder causing Matt to turn towards him with a blank expression. “Yes, I really believe they are in love with each other.” He was surprised by the confidence in his own voice as he spoke. “I don’t think they realize it yet, but…I think they’ve been in love for a long time.”

Matt’s stoic expression melted momentarily. It was replaced with a look a worry. “Do you think he’d hurt her?”

Foggy shook his head. “I...No…I’m shaking my head,” he narrated for a moment to emphasize his point to Matt. “Frank would never hurt Karen. Not intentionally anyway. He proved that when he almost strangled me for implying that he didn’t care about her.”

“We need to find them.” Matt’s voice was firm now.

Foggy thought back to his conversation with David Lieberman as they left Brett’s office Saturday morning. David had pulled out his cell phone and texted Foggy his number. _“Look, Frank trusts you, so I guess I do too,” he’d whispered in a low voice. “If I find out anything, I’ll call you. Please do the same if you hear from Karen.”_ When Foggy turned on his cell phone Sunday morning, he’d seen a text from David. _“They’re safe.”_

“I think I know who can help us,” Foggy murmured. It was time to pay David Lieberman a visit.

* * *

Waking up to the sound of rain, Frank’s first thought was that he was a wanted man yet again. His second thought was that he didn’t care. Not. One. Bit. 

At that moment Frank’s world revolved around the angel he’d woken up next to: Karen Page. He’d worried she would be angry that he lied to her all those months ago; instead, Karen had done what she always did: Force him to be honest with himself. “ _She stayed,”_ he thought. “ _She chose me. She fuckin’ chose **me**.”_ Frank smiled as he remembered how beautiful and brave and vulnerable Karen looked when she stripped bare in front in him; how she’d kissed him; how it felt to be inside of her. He had to take a deep breath; otherwise, he’d have another hard on right then and there. 

Looking down at Karen as she slept, Frank felt a wave of gratitude pass over him. After they’d made love, he’d been afraid to fall asleep. What if the nightmares came back? What if he woke up looking for Maria? Karen must have sensed his anxiety because the last thing she did before falling asleep was touch his cheek and whisper, “ _It’s ok if you miss her. She’ll always be a part of you.”_ Frank felt such an overwhelming mixture of happiness and sadness that he’d kissed her temple as she slept and whispered, _“I love you Karen Page.”_ He meant it with all his heart…and that realization **terrified** him. He couldn’t go back to being the Punisher now, but what was he going to do with himself? How could he possibly give Karen the “after” that she deserved? How would he be able to move freely around New York after Friday night?

The feel of Karen stretching beside him brought Frank back to the present moment. She opened her ocean blue eyes and looked up at him with a soft smile. _“God she is beautiful,”_ he murmured to himself. Frank smiled down at her. “Morning,” he said softly.

“Morning,” Karen smiled. After a pause she added, “From the look on your face, I’m going to guess you are weighing the pros and cons of us sleeping together.”

Frank looked away for a moment. It was crazy how Karen could see right through his poker face. He gently traced the stiches that ran across her collar bone and shoulder, a stark reminder of the chaos still going on in the outside world. “I just…I hate the thought of you being in harm’s way because of me,” he said.

Karen sat up shifting to rest in Frank’s arms which he happily wrapped around her. It took all of Frank’s discipline to focus on Karen’s face and voice as the sheet fell around her torso revealing her bare skin. “I got these stiches because **I** put **myself** in harm’s way,” Karen said firmly. “I’m fighting the same war as you Frank. I might go about it in a different way, but I stand up against the same injustices as you. When I said you could love something instead of another war, I never wanted you to stop fighting the war. I just wanted you to realize the war doesn’t have to define you. You don’t have to sell your soul to it and live in the shadows in order to stand up for what you believe.”

Frank nodded. He wasn’t sure it was possible for him to identify with anything but war; yet he wanted to try to find an “after.” He wanted it for Karen…and for himself. “So,” he murmured, “What do we do now?”

Karen tilted her head up to look Frank in the eyes. “I still think it’s best to give Madani and David the files I intercepted at Less Galleries. They can take that to the proper authorities. Then…we go get that video and confront Todd. I know it’s not 100% safe, but I have to try talking to him. I can’t let Ellison walk into some sort of trap because of me.”

Frank sighed. “So, we’re assuming Todd reached out to your boss at the Bulletin because it’s part of his twisted fixation on threatening people you care about. That means he will probably be armed or have some of Fisk’s goons with him.”

“That’s a safe assumption,” Karen replied.

Frank was quiet for a moment. He simply sat there rubbing his thumbs in gentle circles along Karen’s arms as they both listened to the rain fall outside. Finally, he spoke. “If we confront Todd, you have to promise me two things.” 

Karen nodded. “Ok, what two things?” Her voice held a note of skepticism.

“First, I get us into that meeting. Once we find out where Todd plans on giving Ellison the video, I’ll come up with our plan to clear the area. You follow my orders to get in there. No arguing,” Frank said with firm voice of a Marine.

To his surprise, Karen didn’t argue. “I’ve never cleared a building in my life, so I’ll trust your instincts.”

Frank allowed himself a small smile before continuing. “Second, I respect that you want to reason to Todd. I will stand by silently and let you do the talking, but….if he makes any move to harm you, I will kill him.” Frank paused, feeling the gravity of his own words. “Todd Less’s actions contributed to…to what happened at the carousel. My family is gone; I-I cannot let that happen to you.”

For a moment, they were both quiet. Finally, Karen spoke. “I thought Todd was a prince straight out of a fairy tale when I met him. I believed he’d come into my life to vanquish my depression and take me away from my miserable small town. Then I saw him beating my little brother with a tire iron, and I realized the fairy tale was a lie. He never really cared about me. I…I want to believe there’s some reason for his actions in the past; that he was hurting too. Still, if it comes down to his life or mine…I’ll let you do what you have to do.” 

Frank pressed his forehead to Karen’s. “Ok,” he murmured.

“Ok.”

The sound of Frank’s phone vibrating interrupted their embrace. “Damn phone,” Frank murmured. “I tossed it to the side last night when you _made your move_ on me.” He felt a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his face. Karen chuckled. “You didn’t seem too concerned about your phone at that point.”

Frank nudged her saying, “I had other things on my mind.” He broke free of their embrace and rolled off the bed. “I’d better check it. Could be David or Curt.”

He stood up and walked to the foot of the bed. Bending over, Frank grabbed his phone from the pile of clothes he’d hastily thrown on the floor. Looking down he saw Curt’s number. “Text from Curt,” he said by way of an explanation. His friend’s words were brief:

 _You two ok?_ Frank smiled; he could picture Curt’s concerned face.

He texted back: _We’re safe._ Then, after some thought: _Thanks for the first aid kit._

Curt must have been waiting by his phone because the response was immediate: _Don’t screw this up. She’s a good woman._

Frank responded just as quickly: _I don’t plan on it._

He looked up at Karen still laying against the headboard of his bed. She was staring at him; her eyes were radiating with a liquid heat. Frank suddenly realized he was completely naked. It was obvious Karen liked what she saw.

“Ma’am?” he asked playfully.

The deep blush that spread across Karen’s face and chest made Frank’s ego inflate just a little bit…among other parts of his anatomy. 

Karen cleared her throat. “Frank…it’s raining outside.”

“And?”

“And I know we need to contact David, but…could we…could we just be a guy and a girl hiding from the rain for a little while longer?” Her voice held a husky quality that made Frank’s _ego_ begin to harden.

“Give me a second to text David,” he said. He quickly sent David a message stating, _“Took your advice. Thank you. Turning my phone off for a while.”_ Frank made a show of turning his phone off and tossing it back in the pile of clothes. Then he looked at Karen mischievously. “So, what do a guy and girl hiding from the rain do to occupy their time?”

Frank could have sworn his heart stopped beating as he watched Karen slink off the bed and onto her knees. “I’ll show you,” she whispered.

The last rational thought Frank had before giving himself completely over to the power of her mouth and tongue was that he would happily sit a jail cell for the rest of his life for just this one day with Karen Page.

* * *

_Wilson cradled James in his arms for a moment longer. He knew he had to let go; James’s body was ice cold. He was dead and there was nothing Wilson could do about it. Yet…he couldn’t bear to say goodbye. “No,” he sobbed quietly. “NO.”_

“MR. FISK!” A sharp knock on the side of his bunk work Wilson from the nightmare. Gasping, he sat up.

“What it is?” he growled looking at the guard who’d disturbed him. The man, Tommy, was not one of the guards in Wilson’s circle. He was still too new to Rikers Detention Facility and had the air of an idealist prick who thought he was better than the inmates. Thankfully for Tommy, Wilson didn’t mind the attitude too much. He knew that everyone has a weakness. Some guards toss aside their values for the money Wilson can pay them. Others cower at the thought of death. Wilson would find Tommy’s weakness…he just had to be patient.

“Your wife is here to visit,” Tommy barked. 

That’s when Wilson remembered it was Sunday morning. Vanessa always stopped by for their _“unscheduled”_ conjugal visit on Sundays. The fact that it was actually routine must be why Tommy seemed so sour; he still didn’t understand why staff bent the rules for Wilson. “Thank you, Tommy,” he purred. “I’ll be ready shortly.”

Ten minutes later, Wilson found himself stepping into the conjugal room to find his wife sitting on the bed with a pensive expression. “Vanessa,” he said softly, “You look preoccupied. What’s the matter my darling?”

His wife shrugged off her black raincoat and rose to embrace him. Even though Wilson had made sure nothing was recorded, Vanessa pulled herself close to speak. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Sergeant Cole reached out to me. Apparently Detective Mahoney is issuing a warrant to question me about Friday night. He wants to know why I left the party right before Bellucci’s son and Todd’s friend made their appearance.” Wilson felt her tremble slightly. “If anyone finds out who really orchestrated the shootings…I could lose everything.”

Wilson stroked her hair. “Lucky for us Sergeant Cole has perfected his bumbling cop routine. Detective Mahoney won’t be able to get that warrant until Thursday at the earliest. By then, this will all be over.”

Vanessa looked at him questioningly. “We don’t even know where Castle and Page are hiding. He didn’t take her to a hospital. It’s like they’ve vanished.”

Wilson shrugged. “They won’t stay hidden too long. I’m sure Page’s affection for that vile reporter at the Bulletin will draw them out of hiding. She won’t let Mitchell Ellison walk into a trap.”

His confidence didn’t seem to rub off on Vanessa. “I saw Frank Castle in the flesh for the first time Friday night. That man looked like he was ready to end me if I touched Page. Do you really think we can convince him to kill Todd Less for us?”

Wilson nodded. “Frank Castle is a lost soul. He’s consumed with the need to bring justice to everyone involved in his family’s deaths. We will be doing him a favor by allowing him to kill Todd Less; especially since Todd was Billy Russo’s close friend. Plus, we’ll offer him immunity from NYPD. He’d be a fool not to accept.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Vanessa murmured.

Wilson looked down at his wife with a tender expression. “If he doesn’t, I trust you to take care of him.”

Vanessa gave a small smile. “My aim has been getting better.” After a moment, she added, “Darling we have most of Less’s money now. Why go through all of this to get revenge on Karen Page?”

Wilson closed his eyes momentarily as an image of James flashed before his eyes. “Karen Page ruined my reputation. Then, she took…she took…the closest thing I had to a son.” He felt his face flush and his stomach clench as he spoke. “I want her….I want her to feel the same pain I felt when she told me she killed James Wesley, and Frank Castle is the key to unlocking that pain. He is her Achilles heel. That’s why she was so enamored with him during his trial. That’s why she wrote so many articles about his escapades, about vigilantes and heroes. When Page witnesses Castle choosing revenge over her; that will break her. Then, once she’s turned Frank Castle away and he’s no longer hovering around to protect her, **we will have Cole kill her**.”

Vanessa looked skeptical. “What about Murdock? What if he steps in to protect her?”

Wilson smiled like a wolf ready to devour its prey. “That’s the beauty of all of this my dear. From what Sergeant Cole has reported, Murdock is too angered at the thought of Page choosing Castle to do anything. He’s stuck in his own internal debate about morality and thinks Castle is a monster. He can’t stomach the fact his little crush is with his rival vigilante. Murdock’s rigid view of the world will be his undoing.”

Vanessa nodded. She seemed more relaxed and began to stroke Wilson’s forearms. “Well,” she cooed, “Todd will be reaching out to Ellison to hand off that video on Tuesday. The ship is moored and won’t be moving until Agent Madani completes her after action report explaining how she seized a vessel without proper evidence. Sooo, it looks like we have some time on our hands.” She guided Wilson’s hands to unbutton her blouse.

Even as they began his favorite part of their Sunday routine, Wilson’s mind kept drifting back to Karen Page. He was a patient man. She would come out of hiding eventually. She would know the meaning of pain soon.


	18. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Karen continue to enjoy their lazy Sunday. Meanwhile, the Liebermans get some unexpected visitors demanding to locate Karen, and Madani makes some discoveries that may help prove Frank's innocence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like Foggy is a good friend, so is David Lieberman. Also Sarah keeps her husband in line!

The threat of Wilson Fisk was far from Karen’s mind as she sat in Frank’s makeshift kitchen sipping a cup of coffee and listening to the rain. Watching Frank happily move about his tiny kitchen making pancakes, Karen’s only thought was, _“He chose me. He really chose me”_. 

They’d finally made their way downstairs once Karen’s hunger became too strong to deny. Frank had wanted to spend a little more time _thanking_ Karen for her early morning _affections_ , but she lured him out of bed with the promise of making coffee -a skill she’d perfected waayyy back when she’d worked at the diner - while he cooked. (It still amazed her that a vigilante like the Punisher could keep such a well-stocked kitchen.) Now, as she watched Frank, Karen was overcome by a sense of happiness she hadn’t felt in a long time. Having her feelings validated and reciprocated was new. In past relationships, she’d always felt like she may be imagining that the other person cared. Matt was a prime example...so was Todd. Karen had no way of knowing if they could make an “after” work, but Frank was willing to try. That was enough for her.

“That’s a serious look ma’am,” Frank interrupted her thoughts as he placed a stack of pancakes down in front of her. “You having second thoughts about those pancakes?” His voice was warm, but Karen could tell he was studying her face for any sign of regret about their earlier escapades.

She flashed him a reassuring smile. “Not on your life. I’m just…It’s been a long time since I’ve had pancakes. I made the coffee and worked the counter. Kevin was the one who use to make the pancakes and eggs at the diner.” Her words weren’t a total lie. The memory of her little brother seemed to manifest as the aroma of Frank’s pancakes filled the air. She took one bite. “Holy. Shit. These are amazing. My morning is complete.”

Frank beamed with pride. “If pancakes are what make your morning complete, then I didn’t live up to my full potential upstairs.”

Karen blushed. It felt freeing to be able to joke and flirt with Frank. “Your work upstairs is in a different category all together.”

Frank chuckled happily as he took a bite…then Karen saw his expression shift. “I get what you mean about Kevin,” he murmured. “I’d have the kids help me make chocolate chip pancakes on rainy days. Lisa would stand on a chair and stir the batter. Frankie Jr. would add the chocolate chips. It was my way of making up to them after saying they couldn’t go outside and play in the rain. Maria would have a muddy mess to clean up if that happened, so I distracted them with pancakes. God…it’s been so long since I’ve made these.”

Karen felt a lump in her throat as she watched Frank study his plate. Suddenly, an idea came to her. “Come on,” she took Frank’s hand and stood up from the table.

“What?” Frank looked confused.

Karen gave a small smile as she led him out of the warehouse and into the garage. Stepping over a discarded ammo can, she opened the side door. The rain was pouring down. Karen beamed at Frank, “I used to give Kevin crap about running outside in the rain. I told him he’d catch a cold. We owe it to all of them to enjoy this moment.” She stepped out into the muddy woodland without another word.

“Karen! What the hell?” Frank called.

Karen just looked up at the sky and smiled as a feeling of joy rushed through her body. The pounding rain was a shock to her system. “Come outside Frank,” she laughed.

To his credit, Frank darted outside of the warehouse. His teeth were chattering. Karen grabbed his hand. “Do you feel it?”

“Feel what? Wet?” Frank chattered.

“No,” Karen shook her head. “Do you feel IT. The feeling that we’re here. We’re alive. Lisa and Frankie and Kevin, they understood that feeling. That’s why they wanted us to feel the rain too.” She lifted her face back up to the sky. Frank was quiet for a moment…then Karen felt him squeeze her hand. “Damn. You’re right,” he murmured.

Karen lost track of how long they stood there letting the rain wash over them. Finally, she felt Frank tug her towards him. “Come on. You’re only real outfit is soaked.”

“Guess I’ll have to wear another one of your shirts,” she said.

She caught a mischievous gleam in Frank’s eyes. “That’s after a nice warm shower. I’ve been wanting to _show you something_ in there.”

Karen tried to protest as Frank lifted her over his shoulder and took her back inside. They left a trail of wet clothes as they headed upstairs.

Soon, Karen was too preoccupied with where Frank was putting his hands to think about her half-eaten pancakes, Wilson Fisk, or the fact that her phone kept beeping with a dozen missed calls from Foggy and Matt. She wanted to enjoy the moment with Frank…because it would end all too soon.

* * *

Sarah Lieberman let out a small sigh as she glanced at the clock above the fireplace. _“How can it only be 11am?”_ she groaned inwardly. Sarah usually loved rainy days, especially Sundays. The sound of the rain knocked the kids out which meant she and David could sleep in…or enjoy a little morning sex. Once everyone was up, David would make his “rainy day chocolate chip pancakes” – it was the only time the kids could have chocolate for breakfast (and Sarah was a fan as well). They would all spend the rest of the day watching movies. Rainy days gave them a chance to relax as a family. 

Today was a different story. Sarah had been able to coax David into a little _morning cardio_ , but once her husband was up he quickly marched to his basement lair. He’d gone downstairs mumbling, “He turned off his phone. How can I find you if you turned off your phone?” Sarah knew he was trying to find evidence to prove who was really behind Friday’s horrific shootings, but she worried David was overstepping his boundaries. Her suggestion he let Agent Madani handle things was met with a firm "No". To make matter worse, Leo and Zach kept bugging to watch the news no matter what movie Sara tried to bribe them with. She couldn’t really blame them; she was worried about “Uncle Pete” too.

“Mom,” Leo whispered as she snuggled up beside Sarah on the couch, “Uncle Pete couldn’t have hurt those people. He only goes after bad guys. Karen Page’s articles prove that.” Sarah smiled at her daughter. Leo had been watching David closely ever since he returned from his year in hiding. She’d been the one to stumble on the Bulletin articles David would save and send to Frank. Sarah could clearly picture the evening Leo had asked her father point blank if Uncle Pete was dating Karen Page. That had been an _interesting_ dinner conversation. “You and I know Uncle Pete doesn’t hurt good people sweetie. There’s…just A LOT of confusion about what happened on Friday night. Everybody wants to voice their opinion.”

Before Leo could ask any more questions, the doorbell rang. “MOM!” Zach called out in the watchdog voice he’d developed over the past year, “There are two men at the door!” 

Sarah stood up quickly. “Do NOT answer it. Take your sister upstairs and go to your room.”

“But Mom…”

“GO!” Sarah ordered. 

Ever since she’d been kidnapped, Sarah was on high alert when someone stopped by their home unexpectedly. She eyed the security camera pointed at their front door with caution. Two men were indeed standing outside their house in the rain. They were both wearing suits. One was medium built, a little stocky but handsome, and seemed to shuffle nervously on his feet. His companion was a bit taller, well-built, but stood stoically like a statue. Who were these men? “David!” Sarah called to her husband down the basement stairs. 

Within a second, David was shuffling up the stairs mumbling to himself as he came to stand beside her. “Madani won’t answer her phone and neither will Frank. God damnit…” He fell silent looking at the camera as the doorbell rang again. “What the hell?” he muttered. Before Sarah could ask any questions, her husband was yanking the door open. 

“Foggy Nelson? Is everything ok? Did you hear from Karen?” He addressed the medium built man. Sarah guessed this was “Karen Page’s friend from jail” David had described to her. 

Before Foggy could answer, his companion lunged at David. “Where are they?!”

“Matt! Calm down!” Foggy yelped.

David leaned into the man called Matt’s aggressive stance without fear. “I don’t know where Frank and Karen are.”

“Then why the hell did you say ‘Frank turned off his phone?’” Matt continued to glower at David, though Sarah thought it was odd he never removed his sunglasses.

Sarah watched her husband’s face shift from anger to curiosity as he stared at Matt. “How far away were you when you heard me say that?”

Matt’s face froze like a child caught in the middle of a lie. “Shit,” David muttered, “You DO have super powers.”

Sarah stepped between her husband and their visitors. “I don’t know who you are, but you better have a damn good reason for barging into our home. Don’t you see it’s Sunday!” Her voice quivered a bit as she took a good look at Matt. “ _Shit. He’s blind.”_ Sarah felt her face flush, but she stood her ground.

The man David had initially addressed, Foggy, stepped up. “We are so sorry to barge in on you after everything that’s happened. I…I traced your number to this neighborhood, and we’ve been driving around trying to locate you. We just…we wanted to know if you have any updates on Frank and Karen.”

Sarah and David exchanged a confused look. “You traced my number instead of calling me?” David asked.

“Seeing as how YOU haven’t been truthful about your connection to Frank Castle in the past, we decided it was better to talk in person,” Matt snapped.

David’s face grew somber. “Well, seeing as how I gave Mr. Nelson my number and not YOU, I don’t have to answer your question. Foggy come back without your sidekick and we can talk.” Sarah watched in surprise as her husband turned and stalked towards the kitchen.

Foggy looked ready to panic. “Please don’t go. Matt’s just worried about Karen,” he pleaded. David didn’t answer.

Sarah’s initial urge was to shut the door on their un-welcomed guests, but her pity for Foggy Nelson got the best of her. He looked worried sick. “You are all being ridiculous!” she exclaimed. Three heads snapped in her direction. “Gentlemen, get inside and stop letting the in the rain,” she barked to Foggy and Matt. They complied, stepping cautiously into the entryway. Foggy looked relieved and Matt looked somewhat sheepish. David did not acknowledge their presence; he seemed hell bent on opening and closing every drawer in the kitchen with as much force as possible. Sarah could surmise her husband was making a Rueben sandwich – his go to food when feeling stressed. She rolled her eyes and turned back towards her visitors.

“We just want to make sure Karen is safe,” Foggy mumbled. “She was shot Friday night, and we haven’t heard from her. None of the hospitals have record of her being admitted. She hasn’t been back to her apartment. She’s…she’s our family.” Foggy’s voice held a pained quality Sarah knew very well. She’d heard the same note in her own voice back when she spoke of her thought-to-be-dead husband. She looked towards the kitchen willing David to stop what he was doing. “David,” she pleaded

“I don’t know where they are,” he muttered through a mouthful of sandwich.

“You’ve been in contact with Frank!” Matt snapped. “You texted Foggy that they’re safe.”

“Frank turned off his phone, so I can’t exactly call and ask him for his current address,” David quipped.

“Why the hell would he turn off his phone at a time like this!” Matt challenged. “What could possibly be so important that they had to cut off contact with the outside world.”

David didn’t answer, but Sarah recognized the satisfied smirk spreading across his lips. He simply turned back to his sandwich and began whistling. She was pretty sure it was the tune “ _Let’s Marvin Gaye and Get It On_ ”. Foggy’s eyes grew wide and Matt scowled. “ **David** ,” Sarah hissed in a warning tone. 

“Come on Dad!” Leos’ voice boomed, “You’ve got to help them find Uncle Pete and Karen!” All heads turned towards the stairs. Leo and Zach stood defiantly at the top step. “Yeah,” Zach added, “So they can prove Uncle Pete is innocent.”

“Uncle Pete?” Matt and Foggy said in unison.

“Kids…” Sarah began. Luckily, their insistence seemed to break through David’s desire to bait Matt. He looked up at his children thoughtfully. “You two…you’re right,” he sighed. He turned back towards Karen’s friends. “Let’s go downstairs and I’ll see if I can trace the last call I made to Frank.” Sarah smiled; her husband was a softie at heart.

Twenty minutes later, David was preparing to slide into Foggy’s BMW. He paused before getting in the car to embrace Sarah. “Looks like Uncle Pete is camping out somewhere close to the state line. I’ll be back later tonight.”

Sarah squeezed him tightly as the ever present fear he may vanish rose up in her chest. “Just promise me you’ll call if anything happens.” She handed David a grocery bag filled with travel-sized toiletries and one of her old sweaters and leggings. David raised an eyebrow. Sarah shrugged, “You and Uncle Pete may be ok living in a basement in the same clothes for days on end. I have a feeling Karen may find it uncomfortable after a while.”

David laughed hugging his wife. “I love you, babe. Sorry I was such an ass earlier…I just want Pete to be happy,” he whispered. Sarah nodded, “I figured that much when I found out you were sending all of Karen’s newspaper articles to him.” They kissed goodbye and Sarah watched as David jumped in the car. She said a silent prayer that Frank and Karen were safe...and that David wouldn’t kill Matt in the process of locating them.

* * *

Dinah Madani let out a loud sigh as she started at the paperwork on her desk. She’d finished her report detailing the events of Friday’s botched seizure of the merchant ship containing – or in this case not containing – Todd Less’s art shipment and suspected heroin. Her superiors had been furious she was still poking around Operation Blacksmith at first; thankfully, Mario Bellucci’s testimony Saturday morning changed things. He’d been so distraught over the death of his son that he’d told Homeland Security what Dinah had suspected all along.

_“Every month Todd Less’s merchandise comes to port. I meet the ship at Pier 3 and give the Ship’s Master his cut of the money. My boys load the goods – heroin, opium, you name it - into our trucks. We distribute it to the Family out of the back of Mario’s Pizza. Members pay me for the goods and I get to keep a portion of the profits for myself. The rest of the money gets transferred over to that…that PIG’s account.”_

Dinah gathered the pig Bellucci was referring to was Wilson Fisk. The mobster was seething at being left in federal custody on top of finding out the Punisher had killed his son. He’d begged Dinah to call Fisk’s lawyers and demand life in prison, but Wilson Fisk was out of her hands. The only way the law could touch Fisk or his wife was if there was hard proof they’d been the masterminds behind the Less Galleries shooting. That was a problem for NYPD and Brett not Homeland Security. Dinah had called Brett when she arrived at her office Sunday morning. The detective sounded as exhausted as she felt. He told her – off the record of course – that he still hadn’t been able to secure the warrant to talk to Vanessa Mariana Fisk. 

The only other source who may have information about the shooting was Karen. Brett and Dinah had called every hospital in the area, but there was no record of a Karen Page being brought in Friday night for gunshot wounds. Dinah felt a rush of guilt at asking Karen to poke around Less Galleries without stopping to consider she was asking a civilian to put themselves in harm’s way. (Brett had berated Dinah for this over the phone.) Dinah prayed Karen was safe. _“She has to be. She just has to be,”_ Dinah thought to herself. Part of her was comforted that all signs of the Punisher were nonexistent since Friday night as well. She had a feeling Frank would have tried to burn down the entire city if something happened to Karen. _“Where are you two?”_ Dinah wondered.

Looking at her computer, Dinah considered calling it a day and heading home to rest before the onslaught of questions Monday would bring before her. Yet...some inner since made her open the file containing the link to Mario’s Pizza bank accounts. Opening the account, she noted the historical movement of money from the account her agents had identified as belonging to Todd Less to Mario’s Pizza. Each week at least $30k was moved to another account. That one was harder to trace because it was a Swiss Bank account, but Dinah had a feeling it belonged to Vanessa Mariana Fisk.

Dinah was about to close her browser when she noticed something that made her pulse quicken. As of Thursday night almost all of the money had been transferred out of Mario’s Pizza to the unmarked account. It was almost one million dollars. The pizza parlor didn’t even have enough money left to pay rent on the building they owned. _“The money was moved before Friday. Before Mario was taken into custody.”_ This may help her prove that _someone_ had known the shooting was going to happen…and that there was no need to actually move art or anything else at the pier. Dinah had to let her superiors (and Brett) know about the money.

Before she could reach for her phone, Agent Thompson knocked on her door. “Madani, there are two men her to see you.” Dinah raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors.” Thompson shrugged, “I figured you may need to talk to the reporter since he was with you Friday night.” He stepped aside, and Dinah was able to make out Mitchell Ellison and Curtis Hoyle standing in front of her office. “What the hell?” she breathed, “They can come in.”

Dinah stood to shake both their hands as her unexpected guests entered the office. “Mr. Ellison. Curtis. Good to see you both.” Dinah felt herself blush as she always did in front of Curtis Hoyle. “Is everything alright? Why are you…WAIT. You two know each other?” Dinah looked back and forth between the two men.

Ellison gave a gruff nod. “We do now. I couldn’t take another minute listening to the crap Vanessa Fisk and Todd Less somehow spewed on Channel 5. I’m going to write an article calling Fisk out, but to do that I need to be able to point out facts that prove Frank Castle couldn’t have been the man behind those shootings at Less Galleries.” Ellison paused for a moment, his face a glow with the fever of chasing a story. “Technically, the last time the Punisher was in public was at the Royal Hospitality. We all know he’s been around since then, but that’s the last time – minus when he was in the hospital under police custody after being framed for killing those three women – that the Punisher’s moves were broadcast to all of New York. Everything since then has been heresy and off the record. I want to understand what happened during the bombing at the Royal Hospitality. I want to point out that what happened Friday night DOESN’T fit Frank’s profile.” Ellison stopped. He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe he was advocating for the vigilante.

Dinah nodded slowly as she tried to process what Ellison was telling her. She looked over at Curtis blankly.

“Ellison tracked me down through my webpage about the veterans’ group,” he explained. “He asked me to sit down and describe my service with Frank.” Curtis’s tone was guarded. Dinah suspected he felt uncomfortable at the thought of bringing too much of a spotlight on his friend.

“So your basically going to call Channel 5 News and the Times a bunch of liars,” Dinah stated. “It helps my case with Mario Belluci, but…it seems dangerous to incur Fisk’s wrath even more.”

Ellison rolled his eyes. “I’ve been in the business of calling out crime bosses for years. It’s worth it if it makes people start to question Todd Less and his mentor.”

Dinah signed. The police couldn’t get their warrant to question the Kingpin’s wife, so why not. “Ok. Let’s hear your questions.”

Dinah and Curtis spent the next hour describing Frank Castle as they knew him. Ellison was pleased with most of the information, but it was obvious he wished they knew more about how Karen fit into the picture. “Frank has always been tight-lipped about the people he cares for,” Curtis explained. “Hell, that’s why he wouldn’t even tell me where he took Karen.”

Ellison’s brow was creased with worry. “Do you think she’s alright?”

Curtis nodded. “Trust me. If something happened to her, Frank would probably burn down all of New York.” 

Dinah nodded in agreement. “I was thinking the same…” Her phone buzzed breaking Dinah’s train of thought. She looked down at it. It was a text from David Lieberman. Reading the text, Dinah felt a wave of relief.

_I’ve located Uncle Pete and Aunt Page. We will be at their camp site soon._

Camp site? Were they in the woods or something? Dinah felt a weight lift off her shoulders regardless of the cryptic text. Frank and Karen were safe. She looked at the text again. Who the hell did David mean by _“we”_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Karen's slumber party is about to get busted! There is no world in which I picture Matt being immediately ok with the idea of Karen and Frank as a couple. The next chapter is going to be fun to write :)


	19. Friends and Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen and Frank reunite with their friends as they begin forming a plan to beat Fisk and Less. Not everyone is thrilled about how they've been spending their time in hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stick: What about the girl?  
> Matthew Murdock: Her skin’s…Her skin’s too hot. Her heart’s beating fast. Is she sick?  
> Stick: Worse. She’s in love.

Frank took a deep breath and lay back on his bed. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in…well….in a really long time. He’d just had one of the best mornings of his life (shower included). A warm, happy feeling he thought had died at the carousel was flowing through his body.

He smiled sleepily as Karen, smelling of the coconut travel shampoo they’d brought with them, walked past the bed. She pulled one of his black t-shirts out of the crate he used as a dresser and shrugged it over her shoulders. Karen was almost as tall as Frank, so the shirt just barely hit her thighs. She gave Frank a shy smile. (He loved that she was still a little shy about their current situation even though they’d just fucked like bunnies on the stairs and in the shower.)

“Ok if I wear this shirt for a bit?” Karen asked. 

Frank gave an approving nod. “It’s more than ok. You don’t have to put that hoodie and leggings back on for the rest of the day.”

Karen rolled her eyes playfully. “Men,” she chuckled. A soft buzzing sound halted her smile. She looked in the direction of the kitchen. “That’s probably my phone. I’m sure Foggy or Matt have been trying to reach me.” Her voice softened apologetically.

Frank could tell she felt guilty at ghosting her friends given what happened Friday night. He swallowed the jealousy that seemed to choke him. Frank knew he had no right to be jealous of Murdock or of Nelson …yet…he felt a little threatened at the thought of the rest of the world barging in on his relationship with Karen. It was so new and so fragile and the uncertainty of it scared Frank. For a moment he wondered who Karen might choose once he and Murdock were side by side. ( _Hell, he’d tried to push Karen away by telling her to choose Murdock plenty of times._ ) He was comforted by the fact that during their hours of storytelling Saturday evening, Karen explained she and Murdock never really pursued their relationship. She made it clear that any desire for romance had fizzled out when she realized she couldn’t truly be honest with the wanna-be-preacher. Frank believed her…he just wished they had a little more time together. Still, he knew he had to accept Murdock and Nelson as a part of his world if he really wanted an “after” with Karen. Those two lawyers were her family, and Frank would **never** make Karen give up her family. 

He gently squeezed Karen’s hand. “You’d better go check your phone.” Karen raised an eyebrow. She could probably hear the disappointment in his voice. Frank tried to muster a small smile. “Go on sweetheart. I’d better turn my electronic tether back on and see if David reached out. Like it or not, we can’t hide from the world forever.”

Karen smiled up at him. “Sweetheart, huh…I like it.” She gave him a gentle kiss and walked downstairs. 

Sighing, Frank picked his phone up from the foot of the bed and turned it back on. As if on cue, the phone began to ring. It was David.

“Yeah,” Frank muttered.

“Jesus Frank. Did your mother not teach you proper phone etiquette?” Frank smiled at the sarcasm in his friend’s voice.

“Just trying to keep it brief given the nature of our situation,” he quipped.

“Well, I’m glad you finally turned your phone on. I…we…Nelson, Murdock, and I have been trying to find you.”

Frank felt his stomach drop. “You’re with Red right now?” He cringed, realizing he’d used Murdock’s vigilante nickname.

“Yep,” David seemed to catch on without missing a beat. “Look, I traced your last call. The lawyers want to ensure Karen is alive so…we’re on our way. We’re close to the state line with Connecticut. I just don’t know where to go from here.”

All the relaxation drained out of Frank’s body. He couldn’t be mad at David; his friend was in a tough position. What if Murdock and Nelson thought he’d kidnapped Karen after she’d been shot? What if they were threatening to label David as an accomplice? “No worries David. Let me give you the coordinates. If you’re near the Marshland Conservatory, it’ll be another 15 minutes to our place.” 

There was a pause. It dawned on Frank that he’d said _our place_ ; he was already associating Karen as _his_. David must have noticed his choice of words. “15 minutes,” his friend muttered, “Thank. God.”

Frank chuckled. He could only imagine what that car ride had been like for David.

After hanging up the phone, Frank realized he only had a little time to straighten up for their guests. He had no idea how sensitive Murdock’s little super powers were. God forbid the lawyer figure out what he and Karen had been doing to pass the time. He was tidying the bed when Karen came back upstairs. Her blue eyes were wide with unease. 

“Foggy texted an hour ago. He and Matt are with David Lieberman, and they want to know where I am. I haven’t texted back. I don’t even know what address to give them.” Frank felt a selfish flicker of reassurance that her face mirrored what he felt: They didn’t want to join the rest of the world quite yet.

He swallowed, “David just called. I gave him the GPS coordinates...soooo I guess we’re going to have guests for Sunday brunch.” He hoped the joke would ease some of their shared anxiety. 

* * *

“You’re sure this is the area where Frank and Karen are staying?” Foggy chirped anxiously. He looked down the muddy unmarked road with wide eyes. 

David nodded earnestly. “I know if looks like a dead end, but this road leads us to the coordinates Frank gave me.” He couldn’t blame Foggy for being less than thrilled about their location. Driving the BMW SUV through the rain and mud had left it looking like an escaped vehicle from a monster truck rally. 

Foggy sighed. “Ok,” he mumbled. Then he turned halfway around in his seat to narrate to Matt. “We’re about to go down a dirt road.” Matt nodded grimly.

David wondered what was going on in the lawyer’s head. They’d spent the first half of the drive playing twenty questions with each other. Matt kept interrogating David about how he and Frank became associates, and David kept querying Matt about his super senses. Neither man had been willing to give the other answers. Meanwhile, poor Foggy tried to redirect the conversation. 

As they passed the Marshland Conservatory, Matt had grown very quiet. He’d asked if they were getting farther from the city because he could hear more wildlife. Foggy gave a beautiful description of their current view while David remarked on Matt’s keen sense of hearing. He’d watched in the rearview mirror as the lawyer’s face lit up. “I think I can hear her,” Matt whispered. Foggy had been so excited he almost let go of the steering wheel, but then Matt abruptly said, “Never mind.” David watched his face take on a pained expression which grew cold and angry as David made the call to Frank. Matt had been completely silent from that moment on. David wondered if Matthew Murdock considered Frank his rival as a vigilante (because if David’s hunch was correct, Murdock was the Daredevil aka “Red”), or if the lawyer was possessive of Karen. 

The BMW hit a pothole jolting the car and bringing David back to the present. “Fuck!” Foggy moaned, “My girlfriend is going to kill me! This is her BMW.”

“Don’t worry,” David said, “We’re almost there.” Looking at the dense cluster of trees around them, he hoped he was right.

Thankfully, the SUV thudded into a clearing. David could make out an old warehouse at the exact coordinates Frank had directed him to put in his GPS. “Holy shit,” muttered Foggy, “Please don’t tell me they’ve been staying in that dump.” 

“They’re here,” Matt said softly, “I can feel their heartbeats.”

David didn’t know whether to be impressed or creeped out. Suddenly, a garage door at the side of the warehouse opened. “Should I drive in there?” Foggy croaked. David nodded. Once inside he said, “Stop the car. I’ll check to make sure Frank’s here.” Truthfully, he wanted to give himself a moment of peace before Murdock got out of the SUV. The lawyer was wound so tight David feared he may implode upon reaching Frank.

“Uuuuhhhh…Ok,” Foggy sighed.

David practically jumped out of the car and ran to the back of the garage. Looking around, he noticed Frank’s trademark artillery and Curt’s pickup truck. No other signs of life.

“Frank?” David called.

“David,” came his friend’s voice. David looked past the truck to see Frank appear through a metal door and did a double take. For someone who was being falsely accused of mass murder, Frank looked calm and refreshed. In fact, it was the most relaxed he’d ever seen Frank Castle. A second later, David understood why: Behind Frank stood an equally tall, beautiful blonde. She was glowing even with no makeup on and the oversized black t-shirt she wore couldn’t hide her gorgeous legs. 

“Karen Page!” David heard himself exclaim. He rushed forward and hugged her without a second thought. It was like he was reuniting with a long lost friend. Karen paused in surprise, but then returned his fierce hug. David stood back sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m just really glad you’re ok! I know we’ve never met, but you’re the reason I ended up meeting this guy” he gestured to Frank who raised an eyebrow. “You two helped me get my family back.”

Karen smiled. “Frank’s talked so much about you that I feel like we’re already friends.” Frank shot her pained look causing Karen and David to laugh. 

David felt relieved. “Here.” He handed Karen the bag of clothes Sarah sent with him. “My wife thought you make be tired of bunker life and need to freshen up.”

“Thank you,” Karen looked genuinely pleased. Then she peered around David. “Foggy! Matt!” Turning to Frank she said, “I’ll be right back.” David and Frank watched Karen race to the front of the garage as the two lawyers stepped out of the muddy BMW. 

David eyed her legs approvingly and then turned back towards Frank. His friend was trying hard to keep a neutral expression, but there was a proud gleam in his eye. The two men just stared at each other, David’s unspoken question hanging in the air. Then Frank said, “Glad you found the place.”

David shrugged. “You gave good directions. You two been ok?” He smiled as Frank worked to hide the satisfied grin playing across his lips. 

“Yep.”

David nodded. A pause…and then, “Is that _your_ shirt she’s wearing?”

The grin was even bigger now. “Yep.”

“Looks like she just showered. Did _you_ just shower _too_?”

There was no hiding the satisfaction now. Frank looked like a cat who just swallowed a canary. “You better believe it.”

 _“Thank. You. God.”_ David thought. Frank had been through hell and back multiple times, and David guessed Karen had survived her fair share of trauma as well. They both deserved a little happiness.

David noticed Frank’s expression shift to one of unease. He followed his friend’s gaze to rest on Matt Murdock. Karen was embracing both her lawyers in a giant group hug. Foggy had buried his head in Karen’s shoulder; it was apparent he was relieved to see her. Murdock, on the other hand, was rigid. He’d latched onto his friends with one arm, but his face was turned towards Frank. David could feel the quiet fury radiating out of Matthew Murdock; a fury directed at Frank Castle. 

“Sorry to surprise you with guests,” David muttered. 

“It was going to happen sooner or later,” Frank said. He gave a small nod as Nelson, Murdock and Page walked towards them. 

David bit his cheek to keep from snickering at Foggy’s wide-eyed look of disbelief as the lawyer watched Karen take Frank’s hand. “I guess we should go in and give our friends the debrief.”

From the strained look on both Frank’s and Matt’s face, David had a feeling “ _friend_ ” is not a term either man would use with the other.

* * *

The relief Karen had felt at seeing Foggy and Matt had given way to butterflies. The self-conscious feeling in the pit of her stomach had flared up upon approaching the BMW. Foggy’s eyes seemed to bulge out of his skull as he registered the t-shirt Karen was wearing. After hugging them both, Matt had stiffly whispered, “What. Are. You. Wearing.” to which Karen had replied, “A shirt Matthew.” She’d changed into the clothes David had brought with him as soon as they entered the warehouse.

Now, as they all sat around the small kitchen table, it was obvious that Matt and Foggy didn’t fully trust Frank or David. Frank was trying his best to be cordial. He’d offered everyone coffee when they entered the warehouse (only David accepted), and he’d given Foggy a warm handshake (an act that surprised Karen). Still, he and Matt had squared off at either end of the table without exchanging a word. Frank had draped an arm around Karen’s shoulder because he could sense her unease, but also to make it perfectly clear to Matt (Frank must have guessed her friend could sense body heat) that she was with **him**.

Karen felt a sense of panic. Foggy and Matt were her family; the only family she could truly rely on. She didn’t **need** them to approve of Frank, but she **wanted** them to approve of him. She wanted them to see the man she knew so well. She wanted them to understand that Frank was not a monster. 

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Foggy finally broke the awkward silence. “I like your place. It’s very…industrial. Have you lived here long?” Karen noticed Foggy’s eyes move from Frank’s arm around her shoulder, to the couch, and then trail up the stairs towards the bed. She wondered what he was going through his mind.

“Found this place a while back when I was hunting down a human traffic ring,” Frank explained, “I don’t live here all the time…but I keep what’s important to me here. It’s quiet and far enough from the city that I can lay low and think. “

Foggy nodded slowly as though he was still in shock.

Matt scoffed, “Yeah, it’s far enough from the city that you can kidnap people without worrying about them finding a way to get help.” 

Karen cringed; it was the first time Matt had addressed Frank since his arrival. Her awkwardness fell away as she saw Frank tense up. She put a firm hand on his bicep (much to Foggy’s continued dismay) and said, “Frank didn’t kidnap me Matt. I chose to come her and rest.”

“Yeah. Rest.” Matt huffed.

“Well, hopefully you feel rejuvenated,” David chimed in, “Because you’ll need all your energy for the shit show Vanessa Marianna Fisk and Todd Less have laid out for you.” He was looking at his phone which he’d pulled out in when everyone first huddled around the table. Slowly, David handed his phone to Karen. Reading the Times article, she felt her stomach drop.

_“Most of the spotlight on Friday’s horrific shootings has been shining on Frank Castle, but what about his accomplice Karen Page? Who is the woman who continues to defend the vigilante known as the Punisher? A source close to Miss Page paints a picture of a troubled young woman charged with possession of narcotics as a minor. A young woman who left her hometown of Fagan Corners in Vermont after her younger brother, Kevin Page, was killed in a mysterious hit and run.”_

Karen put the phone down, unable to read anymore. It had to be Todd Less’s doing. He’d coached her on how to sell benzos and coke at college parties; he was there the night Kevin died. “Shit,” she muttered; only then did she realize her hands were shaking. 

Suddenly, Frank was grabbing her right hand and rubbing small circles into her skin with his thumb. He took David’s phone in his free hand and read only a few sentences before slamming the phone on the table. David and Foggy both jumped in their chairs. Matt continued to stand still, frowning at Frank.

Frank ignored their reactions. “What the fuck David!” he snarled.

David put his hand in the air in a pleading gesture. “I’m not trying to make anyone upset; it’s just not looking good for either of you right now.”

Karen squeezed Frank’s hand. “David’s right. Todd Less and Fisk still have the upper hand, but I think we can change that soon.”

“How do they have the upper hand?” Foggy asked. “How do they even know each other?”

Karen swallowed, unsure of what to tell her friend. Fuck it was hard to admit her past. Her friends knew about her brother; they knew about James Wesley; but they didn’t know her whole story. Karen felt Frank squeeze her hand reassuringly. 

Karen proceeded to explain how she’d met Todd Neiman her senior year; how they’d sold drugs to other students; and how their falling out led to her shooting Todd in order to save Kevin. She described her father’s shooting and reuniting with Frank at the hospital as well as the mind games Todd had been playing with her. This led her to Dinah Madani’s request for help finding evidence that Todd Less and Wilson Fisk were connected to Operation Blacksmith. Frank jumped in describing Todd’s connection to Billy Russo. He summed it up saying, “Todd Less sounds like an enterprising guy. When he learned Billy Russo was gone, he must have stepped up and asked Fisk for the chance to continue the operation.”

Everyone had been quiet as Karen and Frank pieced together how Todd Neiman, aka Todd Less, came to be part of Wilson Fisk’s circle. Matt and Foggy knew enough of Karen’s past that her explanation didn’t seem off. It was only David who seemed slightly curious of what Karen had left out of the story. She noticed him throw her and Frank a questioning glance as she described Todd’s mind games. David was big on details; he must realize Karen didn’t mention her the resurrection of her video confession to Fisk. Thankfully, he stayed quiet.

Once Karen was finished talking, she took a deep breath. Foggy did the same. “So how does this all tie into Friday night?” he asked. Karen pulled out her phone, revealing the pictures of the notes she’d found in Todd’s office. David and Foggy peered over them for a few moments. Foggy turned to Matt with wide eyes. “It’s a handwritten hit list. It’s almost identical to the guest list for the Less Galleries opening.”

Matt broke his stoic composure for the first time since arriving at the warehouse. “First the footage of Vanessa Marianna Fisk leaving Less Galleries right as the shooting began. Now a hit list. This is the proof NYPD needs to get a warrant to question her.”

David was nodding as well. “No wonder Dinah was having trouble finding any solid evidence connecting Less and Fisk. They gave each other hand written notes instead of leaving a cyber-trail on the web. They must pass information to each other when Less visits Fisk at Rikers. I’ve got to get this information to Homeland Security. Dinah can pass it to Brett and the NYPD.”

“That’s what we were hoping you’d do David,” Frank said. “The sooner Madani and Mahoney get this information, the better.”

“Then why didn’t you hand over the information Friday night?” Matt snapped. It was the second time he’d acknowledged Frank’s existence that day.

“For your information Murdock, I didn’t know about the list then. Besides, it wasn’t safe to stick around the area.” Frank’s voice was rough; a warning he was getting angry. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t safe for YOU because you’re a wanted criminal,” Matt was seething. “You could have gotten Karen to medical attention and then gone on your merry way.”

Frank opened his mouth to retort, but Karen cut him off. “He did get me to medical attention Matt. I was too out of it to talk about the list. If you’re looking for someone to blame, it should be me.”

“Enough!” Foggy barked diffusing the anger in the room. “This isn’t the time to argue. What matters is getting this information to the right authorities.” He glanced at Frank and his face softened. “Thank you for making sure Karen was safe.”

“You’re welcome Counselor.” 

Karen felt a wave a relief as she watched Frank’s face soften in return. At least he and Foggy were connecting. Suddenly, Matt stepped away from the table. “I’m going to use the restroom.” His voice sounded strained.

Before Karen could act, Frank was at the lawyer’s side. “I’ll show you where it is,” he growled. The two men stalked off, Matt refusing Frank’s assistance in guiding him up the metal staircase.

There was silence as the table watched the two vigilantes make their way up the stairs. David finally spoke. “I’m giving them five minutes before someone throws a punch.”

* * *

_“One.”_ Step up. _“Two.”_ Step up. _“Three.”_ Step up.

Matt continued to silently count each tap of his cane as he made his way up the stairs. Counting helped him navigate unfamiliar territory. It also helped him quell the fury bubbling up inside his chest. He had to calm down and think logically. Karen COULDN’T be in love with Frank Castle. It just didn’t make sense.

He’d uttered those words to himself a thousand times today. The first time was in his apartment when Foggy announced that Karen and Frank were in love. He’d told himself Foggy must be misunderstanding Karen’s intentions. She was a nurturer at heart. Of course she’d want to help someone like Castle. The second time he told himself Karen couldn’t be in love was at Lieberman’s house when that idiot started whistling. Castle may have some kind of obsession with Karen, but there was NO WAY the feeling was mutual. She was probably just biding her time until she could call for help.

Then came the car ride. As they’d gotten closer to Castle’s hide out, Matt had been able to hear Karen’s voice and heartbeat. It had been faint, but it was hers. He’d been relieved…until he heard Karen say Castle’s name. _“Frank.”_ It wasn’t the fact she’d used his first name that unnerved Matt. It was **how** she said it. There was a heat, a sensuality in the way Karen had uttered the Punisher’s name that Matt had NEVER heard in her voice ever. Worse, it sounded like she was standing under running water or something…and she wasn’t alone. Matt could still feel the moment in Marci’s BMW when he’d been able to pick up a second heartbeat pounding in time with Karen’s. 

He’d tried to reason with himself that it was a mistake. He was tired and anxious; he was hearing things. He’d continued to reason with himself as he stepped out of the car and was greeted by the scent of Castle’s shirt on Karen. Of course, she couldn’t still be in whatever outfit she’d worn Friday night. Just because she was wearing Castle’s shirt didn’t mean she was in love with him.

But now…standing at the top of this decrepit warehouse (the sound of mice scurrying around in the walls added to his irritation), Matt’s super senses were screaming the obvious to him. There was one truth he couldn’t deny anymore: Karen had slept with Frank Castle. The scent of Castle’s shirt on Karen wasn’t the only thing Matt could smell. He could pick up the scent of Castle’s hands in Karen’s hair and all over her body. He could smell the lavender and coconut of Karen’s shampoo and lotion (she used it so often those scents were practically in her blood stream) on every inch of the Punisher. Frank Castle had brought Karen out to the middle of nowhere and had sex with her while authorities labeled her as an accomplice to his latest, reckless, killing spree. Frank Castle. _That bastard_. 

Matt was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t realized he’d stopped walking. 

“Red,” Castle whispered in a voice so low only Matt could hear him. “What’s going on?”

 _Karen and Frank. Frank and Karen. Together. This wasn’t how the world was supposed to work. His friend couldn’t be in love with a monster._ The darkness in Matt’s eyes clouded with red.

The next thing he knew; Matt’s fist was flying towards Castle’s jaw. He wasn’t on his A-game; Castle’s hand blocked the punch. They stood frozen for a moment until Matt felt an ache in the fist Castle was gripping. Thankfully, the Punisher let go.

“What. The. Hell?” Castle gave a low growl.

“I can smell you all over her!” Matt hissed. “You **touched** her. You…” His voice broke.

Castle’s pulse was racing. “That is officially the **weirdest** thing you’ve ever said,” he sneered at Matt. “Now, you listen: You of all people should know that Karen Page is NOT some damsel in distress. You had your chance with her, and you blew it. She chose me. ME. I may be destined for hell, but I will fight for every moment I have with her. So yes, I touched her. I did more than touch her, and I’m going to do more than touch her because I lo - -”

He didn’t finish. This time, Matt’s fist knocked Frank Castle squarely in the mouth.

WHHAAMM!

“CHRIST!” Castle yelped. Matt stepped back; ready for the Punisher to come at him. He was surprised when Castle stood still.

Suddenly, Matt could hear Karen’s footsteps pounding up the stairs. “What the hell is going on?” Her pulse was racing. She was angry…she was angry at him.

Matt struggled to find words, but Castle cut him off. “It’s my fault. I egged him on.” Matt could tell Castle was holding his jaw. He felt a twinge of pride realizing he’d decked Frank-the-fucking-Castle. That pride died as he sensed Karen place her hand on the Punisher’s cheek. He felt the rhythm of their hearts begin to beat in time together as Karen stood beside Castle.

As Matt stood facing Karen and Castle, a memory bubbled up in his mind _. Stick, standing in the park. “What about the girl?” Matthew standing beside him, flooded with noise and heat. “Her skin’s…Her skin’s too hot.”_

He tried to focus on Karen’s voice. 

“You two HAVE to learn to trust each other. My name wasn’t the only one on Wilson Fisk’s hit list. Both of your names were on it. Once David delivers the evidence and Brett has his warrant, you two can argue about whose the better vigilante. Until then, we have to work together.”

_Matthew, “Her heart’s beating fast. Is she sick?”_

Matt bristled. “I don’t work with criminals. And David doesn’t need to deliver the evidence. You, Foggy, and I can do that when we get back to the city.”

He felt Karen’s deep breath. “I’m not going back with you Matt. I need to stay here and take care of some things.”

_Stick’s voice full of scorn, “Worse. She’s in love.”_

This couldn’t be happening. Matt shook his head. “Karen, as your friend, I am begging you to THINK. Castle admitted his old enemy Billy Russo worked with Todd Less. Todd Less, the man who’s been stalking you. Who almost shot you once. Castle is using you. He’s getting close to you because that’s his best bet at getting close enough to kill Todd Less and further his vendetta.”

Castle and Karen both stilled. Karen’s voice was firm and surprisingly loud in Matt’s ears. “I have to stay.”

There was no mistaking the hurt in her voice. Matt knew he’d wounded her, but his frustration outweighed his guilt. “STOP acting like a child. We need to get out of here.”

He felt a rush of air as Castle stepped in front of Karen shielding her from Matt. “If you’re hell bent on throwing a tantrum, go ahead and punch me again. You can take your anger out on me Red, but you will not talk to her like that.”

“Since when did you become her keeper?” Matt snapped.

“I’m not her keeper. Karen is choosing to stay!” Castle’s trigger finger twitched as he yelled.

Matt felt his stomach drop. Castle was right; Karen was choosing to stay. She didn’t want his help. “Well, you’ve made your choice,” he practically spat out the words as he turned his back on Karen. 

“Matt,” she pleaded.

“Good luck when the Punisher leaves you to finish his war,” Matt shouted the words over his shoulder as he lunged down the stairs. He moved swiftly towards the draft coming from the garage door. 

“Matt?” Foggy called after him. Matt couldn’t answer. He felt a fresh wave of hurt at Foggy for believing Frank Castle as well. 

Matt remained silent as Foggy and David came out to the BMW about five minutes later. He was silent during the drive back to the city. Only when he heard the rumble of New York traffic, did Matt snap at Foggy to let him out of the car. “I’ll make my way home from here.”

“How are you going to find- -” David began.

“That’s not your problem,” Matt barked. 

“I’ll be working from home tomorrow,” Foggy said. Matt could feel the irritation and disappointment radiating from his friend.

“Do whatever you want,” he huffed.

Matt walked away from the car without waiting for Foggy to answer. 

_“One.”_ Step. _“Two.”_ Step. _“Three.”_ Step. He continued counting, hoping the repetition would block out the anger he felt. Anger at Karen for choosing to stay. Anger at Foggy for thinking her involvement with Castle was safe. He was angry about a lot of things, but underneath it all there was guilt. Guilt for planting a seed of doubt between Karen and Frank Castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a while to write, but it was fun! Up next...how Kastle navigates their personal doubts as they plan their confrontation with Todd Less.


	20. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt Murdock isn’t the only one planting doubts that Frank and Karen can find their “after”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Love is weakest when there is more doubt than trust… but love is strongest when we learn to trust in spite of doubt.” ~ Anonymous

_Maria sat quietly on their bed, hovering a few inches above Frank. She looked away for a moment, and her eyes began to tear up. God it hurt to see her cry. Frank tried to brush the tears from her face, but he couldn’t move his hand._

_“This the hardest part Frank.” He knows she’s trying to be strong, but her voice is shaking. “When you’re here with us, but…but you’re not really home.” Frank opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as Maria turned her face to look at him._

_“Come home,” she said. He tried to speak again, but Maria’s face began to change. Her hair grew wavier, more golden, her brown eyes grew lighter, ocean blue. “Come home.” It was Karen now. “You can love something else instead of another war. Come home.”_

_Frank felt disoriented. Where is home? Where is he right now? Karen’s eyes are tearing up in the same way they did in the hospital five months ago. He wanted to touch her face, but he couldn’t move._

_Then a figure in black walked through the bedroom door. Frank sees the gun and - —_

Frank jolted awake. Without thinking, he reached his right arm out and breathed a sigh of relief as his fingers brushed Karen’s shoulder. _“You’re in the warehouse,”_ he tells himself, _“There are three exits including the window in the bathroom. Ka-Bar is under the bed. You’re safe.”_ Frank looked down at Karen. She had curled herself into a ball nestling beside him. _“You’re safe,”_ he tells himself again.

Suddenly, he noticed Karen shaking. She was hugging herself as though her life depends on it. Her face was constricted in pain.

“Karen?” he whispers softly. 

Frank felt a wave a deja vu pass over his as he watched Karen shake. It’s a nightmare. He didn’t know what monsters she was facing, and for a moment he felt helpless; uncertain of how to wake her up.

“Karen,” he called her name with more force.

“NO!” Karen jerked awake with such force that she almost fell off the flimsy bed. He grabbed her by the arms, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Shhh…shhh..shhh,” Frank murmured as he pressed his forehead to hers. Karen let out a sob as she rocked back against him. 

“Kevin,” she moaned taking a ragged breath. “It was Kevin. W-we were in the c-car and…he was telling me he couldn’t…he couldn’t lose me like he lost mom. I-I turned to look at him and I let go of the steering wheel. W-w-why did I let go?”

“C’mere,” Frank said as he pulled her tighter. He knew he couldn’t take the pain away, but he could hold her so she didn’t feel alone.

“Why did I let go?” She cried softly, taking an uneven breath. God it hurt to see her cry. 

Karen began to still as Frank rubbed small circles into her arms with his thumbs. Finally, Karen spoke. “Sorry for acting like such a child,” she muttered.

Frank felt a wave of anger and guilt pass over him. _A child_. Those were Murdock’s words, that self-righteous prick. How the hell could he have ever thought pushing Karen towards Murdock was what she deserved? 

“Hey,” his voice was firm but gentle as he tilted Karen’s chin up gently. She met his eyes with a look of steely resolve, and Frank knew she was telling herself to pull it together. “Don’t you dare let that pompous preacher fill your head with doubt. You’re NOT acting like a child, alright? Those nightmares are HELL not childish bids for attention.”

He felt Karen slowly relax in his arms. “Thank you, Frank,” she whispered. “I guess all the talk about Todd made me think back to the last night I saw him. The night I lost Kevin.”

Frank nodded understandingly. “Yeah, anything can be a trigger.”

Karen looked up at him, and Frank saw the same compassion she’d shown him when he woke up screaming from his own nightmares in a hospital bed. She knew he was speaking from experience.

They lay there for a few more minutes until Karen sighed. “Well, there’s no use putting off the inevitable. It’s not even 5am yet; we won’t cause too much attention if we head into the city now.”

Frank frowned. “I wish there was another way of contacting your boss at the Bulletin besides going to talk in person.”

Karen squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Foggy told me that Brett Mahoney already searched my apartment once. I don’t want to think about the fact they probably bugged my laptop. NYPD is probably waiting on some electronic communication to signal our whereabouts or for me to return home. They don’t know Pete Castiglione, so staying at your place until I can talk to Ellison is the safest bet. I know his workday schedule like the back of my hand. Hell, I know which hot dog stand on 34th and 7th Ave he likes to stop at on his lunch walk. I can get to him far away from any surveillance Brett has staged for us.”

Frank didn’t feel reassured. Earlier that evening, while Murdock had sulked after his little tantrum, Nelson and David filled them in on Brett Mahoney’s actions since Friday. It seemed clear that the detective didn’t personally believe they were responsible for the shootings at Less Galleries, but he would bring them into custody to sort things out. Frank worried that if he was taken into custody, he wouldn’t be released. The thought of jail didn’t scare him, but the thought of Karen being left to confront Todd Less and Wilson Fisk on her own did. He knew she wouldn’t share her plan to get her video confession for James Wesley’s death with anyone else; her friends had risked enough. 

Karen and Frank decided they would make their way back into the city. Find out when and where Mitchell Ellison was supposed to pick up the supposed video. Crash the exchange. (Frank had stashed two sets of Kevlar, his semi-automatic, and extra hardware in Curt’s truck for the occasion.) Then Karen could give Todd the ultimatum of leaving her alone or going to jail for his part in Wilson Fisk’s operations. Frank had planned enough missions in his time to recognize the gaping holes in their plan. First, they were assuming that David would be able to get the copy of Wilson Fisk’s hit list to Mahoney and Madani so that the threat of jail would be looming over Todd Less and Fisk’s wife. Second, they were assuming Todd was the anonymous individual who’d tipped Ellison off about the video. What if Fisk had others waiting for them at exchange? Karen had proven her willingness to listen when he’d gone over some basic techniques for clearing a building, but would those skills be enough to protect her if things went south? 

The idea of going into a potentially hostile situation with Karen filled Frank with anxiety, but he knew she’d find a way to confront Todd Less whether he liked it or not. Part of him wished he’d killed Todd in the alleyway the night that maniac attacked Karen and Foggy Nelson. He’d kept _that_ thought to himself. Murdock’s words had shaken him and unnerved Karen. He didn’t want to give her a reason to doubt him.

“Ok,” Frank sighed. “Let’s get back to the city.”

Karen gave a small smile. “I’ll make you the strongest, blackest cup of coffee on the planet once we’re at _Pete’s_ place.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “How do you know _Pete_ drinks coffee?”

“Reporter’s hunch,” she quipped.

Frank chuckled giving her a small kiss. Murdock was dead wrong. He was doing this **for Karen** not for anything else. He just told himself that every time the picture of Billy Russo and Todd Less flashed through his mind.

* * *

Pete Castiglione’s apartment was a dump. At least that’s what Sergeant Cole surmised studying the gray, washed out building on the corner of 33rd St and Hudson Blvd. _“Only a few units; couple broken windows. Above a liquor store. Makes sense it’s not a fancy area. Pete doesn’t really exist, and the Punisher wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself.”_ He was thankful Mahoney was working closely with that straight-laced officer at Homeland Security. Hearing them discuss Frank Castle’s alias gave Cole the ability to research the name on NYPD’s server. There wasn’t much on Mr. Castiglione: A birth date, a social, and an address. Cole knew most of the info was bogus, but the address was enough. Hopefully, he’d spot the Punisher and that reporter soon. Then he could bring some good news back to Fisk.

Cole decided to drive around the block to pass the time. He blasted the AC in his car, struggling to keep awake. “ _5:30am. Fuck,”_ he thought to himself. Mahoney was going to give him shit when he showed up at the precinct later that morning with circles under his eyes, but it didn’t matter. Once this shit show was over and Mrs. Fisk paid him for his part in delivering Karen Page, Cole could tell Mahoney’s righteous ass to go to hell.

Detective Mahoney: Desperately fighting for justice; running to a case like a puppy running after a ball. He worked his subordinates to the bone. Yep, Cole would have no problem telling that jerk to stuff it. If the detective had ever bothered to take a breath between yelling out criticism and get to know him, Cole might have opened up to him. He might have shared how his paycheck from the NYPD wasn’t enough to pay his mother’s medical bills. He might have felt guilty about selling the precinct out to Wilson Fisk. When Todd Less first approached Cole with the offer to be Fisk’s eyes and ears regarding Mahoney’s investigations, he’d been hesitant. Sure, he’d heard rumors of guys who were on the Kingpin’s payroll, but he’d never had a desire to play that game. Cole wasn’t so naïve that he believed he’d been specially selected for the job. He knew Fisk’s offer for work had everything to do with the fact that he worked for Detective Mahoney and the fact that he was broke. Still, money was money. Cole had his mother, his wife, and his kids to think about. Either incur the Kingpin’s wrath by refusing the offer, or be granted protection from the city’s underworld. It had been an easy choice for Cole at the time.

Yet, as he drove around Pete-the-Punisher’s apartment a few more times, Cole felt a stab of doubt. Mrs. Fisk had made it pretty clear that Todd-the-golden-boy-Less was on his way out. If the Kingpin was getting fed up with the man who orchestrated massive sales of heroin around the city…what protected Cole from being booted out of the operation too? The answer: Nothing. Cole shook his head to let go of the thought. _“Just get the money. Then you can be done with all of this crap.”_

Turing the corner on to Pete’s block, a movement caught Cole’s eye. He pulled behind a large SUV and turned off his headlights. He stared intently at the fire escape on the first floor above the liquor store sign. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Cole began to make out the figure of a man on the fire escape steps. The figure was tall and well-built even in a dark gray hoodie; he slowly walked all the way down the fire escape as if trying to be as quiet as possible. _“Let this be Castle,”_ Cole thought. The man scanned the area and for a moment Cole feared the figure had spotted his car. He sunk lower in his seat and took a deep breath. Thankfully, the man turned his gaze away from the car. Cole felt a flicker of hope sear his stomach as the hooded man give a small nod…and a woman with blonde hair pulled up in a baseball cap emerged from around the corner. She walked quickly over to the man who put a hand on the small of her back and led her up the fire escape. Cole noted the couple had no luggage besides a brown paper sack. 

Cole watched intently as the couple made their way to the second floor and the man opened the fire escape door. He waited…expecting to see the glow of a hallway or kitchen light in one of the apartment windows, but there was nothing. The pair didn’t want to draw attention to their arrival.

_“Score,”_ Cole thought as he picked up his cell phone. Dialing Vanessa Marianna Fisk, he waited with anticipation. 

“Hello?” came a sleepy voice.

“Ma’am,” Cole whispered, “Castle and Page are back. 33rd Street and Hudson Blvd. Above the liquor store.”

There was a pause as Vanessa Marianna Fisk collected her thoughts. “Very good. Stay there for now. Call me the minute either one of them leaves that apartment.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Cole said. He looked at his watch again. He’d call the precinct to say he was sick around 7am. Brett Mahoney be damned. Frank Castle and Karen Page were his priority.

* * *

Karen groaned inwardly as her alarm buzzed. A 30-minute nap was not enough to make up for the earlier nightmare, but she couldn’t hit snooze. 6am and go-time. She reached over Frank’s chest to turn her phone off, but he beat her to it. 

“You couldn’t nap?” she asked as she rolled over to look at him.

“The Marine Corps made me an early riser,” Frank shrugged. “I don’t mind though. Waking up early gives me time to think.”

Karen studied his for a moment. Frank seemed calm enough: He was sitting back against the headboard, one arm draped around Karen’s pillow and a paperback book in his lap. The only sign of Frank’s agitation was the slight twitching of his trigger finger. Karen placed her hand over his and the twitching slowly stopped.

“Think about what?” she asked.

Frank gave a ruthful smile. “About all the ways today might go sideways. About how embarrassing it is to show you this shithole place.” He gestured around the dingy studio.

Karen had to admit the studio wasn’t impressive when compared to Frank’s hideout in the woods, but that didn’t matter to her. Hell, she’d lived in trailer parks and apartments with broken windows. She understood that you’ll take what you can get when you’re simply trying to survive. She just hoped Frank was ready to move on from simply surviving to actually living again.

“Your silence tells me you agree: It is a shithole,” he quipped.

Karen shook her head. “ _Pete Castiglione’s_ place is a shithole, but it doesn’t have to be that way for long. Between my apartment in the city and your… _bat cave_ , Pete won’t need to rent this place out for much longer.” Karen felt a lead weight settle in her stomach as she listened to herself talk. _“Did you really just suggest you’d be living together?”_ a panicked voice yelled in her head.

Frank’s face had gone comically blank hearing her words. Slowly, she saw the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Yeah,” he said softly, “Pete won’t need this place pretty soon.”

Karen felt herself blush. “I’m going to wash my face and then we’d better head to the metro. Ellison won’t leave for the office for another hour and a half.”

She moved to step off the bed, but Frank grabbed her wrist. “Karen…I know we’ve gone over the plan but…if something goes wrong today or when we confront Less…promise me you’ll head back to the warehouse where it’s safe. Take Curt’s truck and get back to the warehouse. Wait until I come for you. Please.” Frank’s eyes were wide with a fear she rarely saw in them.

“Ok,” she said, “I’ll go to the warehouse where it’s safe.” After a pause she added, “What if I’m the one that has to come for you?” she asked in dead seriousness.

“Karen,” he pleaded.

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

Fifteen minutes later they were on the metro speeding towards Cobble Hill in Brooklyn. Looking around the fairly empty metro car, Karen let herself relax for a moment. With their hoodies pulled up over their heads and cups of coffee in paper mugs (Pete was a resourceful guy who happened to keep to-go cups stashed in his cupboard.), Karen and Frank could have easily been two tourists up early to explore the city. The rumble of the metro rail almost lulled Karen to sleep, until she felt Frank giver her knee a gentle squeeze. She felt a flicker of curiosity as he wordlessly handed her a discarded newspaper from the nearby seat. Looking down at the words, it took Karen a second to recognize the source: The Bulletin’s Monday edition.

Karen felt herself smile as she read the headline. _“The Less Galleries Shooting: Wilson Fisk’s Latest Conspiracy. By Mitchell Ellison.”_ Reading the article, Karen was struck by the quality of Ellison’s work. He’d weaved together profiles of both Frank and Karen, facts of Frank’s heroics during the incident at the Royal Hospitality, eyewitness accounts of Friday’s shootings, and information regarding Todd Less’s involvement in a money laundering scheme at Mario’s Pizza (Karen was pretty sure Dinah had offered that information) to paint an entirely different picture of what happened Friday night. Ellison had even gotten character witness statements from Curtis Hoyle and Foggy. It was the kind of article Karen dreamed of writing one day.

Leaning in even closer to Frank she whispered, “Looks like NYPD may have enough of a reason to push Mrs. Fisk’s warrant through.” Frank nodded grimly. “Let’s just hope your boss really is a fan of mine.”

A short time later, they were walking swiftly towards the rows of brownstone apartments decorating the quiet Brooklyn neighborhood. Ellison’s penthouse faced a small urban park lined with trees. They stopped under the tree facing directly across from the reporter’s door. It was a romantic looking area and for a moment Karen felt wistful. “This would be a great place to sit and write,” she murmured. Frank gave a small smile. “We’ll come back once this mess dies down. Have a picnic.” Karen felt a flicker of hope that burned from their earlier conversation, and smiled as Frank kissed her forehead. “I’ll stand guard out her. Go talk to your boss.”

Karen took a deep breath and then turned towards the apartment. Stepping up to the door, she gave a firm knock. “What the hell?” came the gruff voice she knew so well. The door opened and Karen locked eyes with a very shocked Mitchell Ellison. For a moment, they stood staring at each other. Karen briefly worried he was going to yell at her like he’d done at the hospital after the Bulletin massacre. Instead, the reporter leaned forward and swallowed Karen in a giant bear hug. 

“Karen. Holy. Shit.” Ellison was squeezing hard. “Are you alright? Did…did _he_ hurt you?”

Karen broke away to look at Ellison’s face. It was creased with a worry she’d never seen on her own father’s. “No,” she said with complete confidence. “No. Frank would never hurt me.”

She followed Ellison’s gaze to the tree where Frank stood. “I take it you two aren’t here to walk me to work,” he quipped. 

“It’s not a social call,” Karen shook her head. “Can I come inside?”

Ellison nodded, stepping back to allow Karen in the entryway. She closed the door behind her and then looked at her boss. He stood there gaping at her with his arms crossed. “I should call Detective Mahoney and have you two taken into custody for simply scaring the shit out of me. I was worried you were hurt or dead.”

Karen cringed. “Look, I owe you an explanation. Just trust me when I say Frank and I are working to bring the people responsible for Friday night to justice. That article you wrote is going to help.”

Ellison sighed, “It was the least I could do.”

Karen bit her lip before proceeding. “There’s one more thing you can do….Has JJ called you with any information about that video? The one regarding James Wesley?”

Ellison frowned and Karen could tell he was debating whether or not to tell her. Finally, he took a slip of paper out of his pocket. “I got a call late yesterday. The source wants me to pick up the video at these GPS coordinates near the Marshland Conservatory tonight at 7pm.”

Karen felt a twinge of anticipation as she snapped a picture of the note with her phone. This was really happening. “Ellison, I can’t let you meet with that source. Frank and I will go. It could be Todd Less or Wilson Fisk.”

Ellison shook his head in disbelief. “You really think I’m going to let you confront ANYONE connected to Wilson Fisk right now?”

“I’ll write a story explaining my involvement,” Karen pleaded. “Besides, Frank will be with me.”

Ellison closed his eyes for a moment. “Damnit Karen. Is the Punisher going to kill Todd Less?”

“No…Frank promised he wouldn’t…No.”

He glared at her. “If I don’t hear from you by 9pm, I WILL call NYPD and tell them where you two are. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Thank you. I’ll call you at 9pm. I’ll have a story for you by tomorrow night!” Karen felt ten times lighter knowing Ellison would stay out of harm’s way. She turned to leave the apartment.

“Karen.” Ellison’s tone was firm and a little worried. “Tell your boyfriend to keep you safe. I can’t have you two over to dinner if you’ve got broken bones and bruises.”

Karen gave a sly smile. “He’s not technically my boyfriend _yet_.”

Ellison raised an eyebrow. “Yeah right…Be careful kid. And I’m serious about that dinner. From what Curtis Hoyle has told me Frank isn’t the type to play the field. If he’s been sending you roses and saving your life, he’s pretty serious. I’d better meet him” Karen blushed, nodding her head as she left the apartment. 

Stepping back out into the early morning light, Karen felt herself humming with anticipation. Their plan was really happening. It was - - - Her heart stopped as she looked at the tree where she’d left Frank only a few moments ago. He was gone.

“Frank?” Karen called in a whisper, willing herself not to panic. “Frank?!” Approaching the tree, she looked around. There was no sign of a struggle. Nothing. It was as if he’d vanished into thin air? 

She tried calling his cell phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Frank wouldn’t have left her. Not right now. Not like this. He couldn’t have thought she’d be safer without him. What about their plan? 

Karen headed to the metro station; maybe Frank was waiting for her there. She waited...and waited. Called again, and still no answer. After an hour of waiting, Karen couldn’t ignore the waves of doubt washing over her. Frank? _“Ok. Breathe. Something must have happened. Just go back to his apartment and wait._ ” 

Karen barely remembered getting back on the metro and heading to Pete Castiglione’s studio. She tried calling Frank again, but gave up after the 10th time. He wouldn’t have walked out like this. Something must have happened. She spent the next few hours waiting, reading the paperback book Frank had left lying on the bed, and ignoring an increasing number of calls from Foggy. She couldn’t talk to anyone right now; she was too worried. After hours of waiting, Karen came to the conclusion that _something had gone south_ as Frank had feared. Then she remembered his words:

_“Take Curt’s truck and get back to the warehouse. Wait until I come for you. Please.”_

It looked like they would have to move to Plan B - whatever that was. Karen found herself robotically walking to Curt’s car, checking to make sure she grabbed all the _hardware_ Frank had placed in the brown paper sack, and driving back towards the state line. Back towards the Marshland Conservatory. Her GPS was tired and true, leading Karen back to Frank’s hideout.

She felt the confusion and worry boiling inside her as she pulled into the garage and parked the truck. “What the fuck Frank!?” she yelled out loud. “Where are you!” Stepping out of the vehicle, Karen looked down at her phone. She dialed Frank again. No answer. 

“Damn it!” she cried, throwing the phone in anger. 

After a minute, Karen breathed. She HAD to believe Frank was protecting her. He wouldn’t have left her like this. Slowly, she bent over to pick up her phone.

That’s when she noticed the drops of blood. 

Karen felt a chill run down her spine. There were small drops of blood leading to the back of the garage. 

Then she heard a soft moan.

Walking forward, Karen felt her heart pounding. The moan was coming from just inside the door to the warehouse. A door that was ajar.

Karen slowly pushed the door open and felt her world spin sideways. Frank was sitting at the kitchen table with his hands tied behind his back. His face was beaten badly, one eye swollen, and blood was running down his face. 

“FRANK!” she cried rushing to him. “What happened?” He was breathing softly, barely awake. “FRANK?!!”

Then Karen heard the door close behind her….and in a second all her mistakes from the morning flashed before her eyes:

Leaving Frank alone.   
  
Ignoring Foggy’s calls.

Not taking the Glock stashed in Curt’s truck with her. 

Not realizing that the coordinates Ellison had given her for the meeting…were the **same** coordinate as Frank’s hideout.

In that second Karen knew: The meeting with JJ’s source had been a setup the whole time.

She turned, already knowing who had closed the door on her.

Standing a few feet from her was a tall guant man with sandy hair. A man whose voice had haunted her whenever she re-lived Kevin’s death.

“Hello Karen,” Todd Less gave a chilling smile.


	21. The Best-Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So how did Frank end up beaten, bloody, and tied to a chair in his own hideout? Let’s back things up a bit….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The devil fools with the best-laid plans. ~ Neil Young

_10 Hours Earlier on Monday, March 4 th_

“This would be a great place to sit and write,” Karen said in a soft voice. Frank looked at her. He recognized the dead tired feeling, the ache of loneliness that he’d constantly felt over the last few months reflected in her eyes. In that moment he just wanted to take her in his arms and sit on a park bench. He was so tired, so done with waging war. Maybe that’s what his earlier dreams were trying to tell him: Let. It. Go. 

“We’ll come back once this mess dies down. Have a picnic,” he promised. He was rewarded by Karen’s smile. Frank kissed her forehead. “I’ll stand guard out her. Go talk to your boss.”

Frank watched with a mixture of relief and unease as Karen knocked on the door and proceeded to be both embraced and interrogated by Mitchell Ellison. He and Karen were one step closer to figuring out Todd Less’s game plan, which was a relief…but they weren’t out of harm’s way yet. Where exactly had this source regarding James Wesley’s death planned to meet the reporter? Would Todd Less be there? Would they really be able to talk him out of continuing to use them as decoys in Wilson Fisk’s plans? There were so many ways today could go wrong.

He nodded approvingly as he watched Karen step inside the brownstone apartment and close the door. Safer to speak indoors at 7am on a Monday morning. A young woman showing up in a hoodie at the well-known reporter’s door would be cause for gossip, and they needed to keep the amount of attention they drew to themselves at a minimum. Frank scanned the area. Luckily, the neighborhood was quiet. Besides a few parked cars, there wasn’t a soul on the street. No dog walkers. No joggers. It was - - -

Frank’s breath hitched as he noticed a figure crouching on the rooftop of the apartment directly across the park for Mitchell Ellison’s home. “ _Christ_ ,” he thought _“Perfect range for a scout sniper.”_

Heart pounding, Frank stepped into the street ready to close the gap between himself and Ellison’s door…but his path was blocked by a black, four-door sedan slowly rounding the corner. Frank’s right hand flew to the pistol in his pocket. Before he could react, the back passenger window of the sedan was rolling down to reveal the Wicked Witch of Hell’s Kitchen: Vanessa Marianna Fisk. 

“I’d be very careful about pulling out that gun Mr. Castle,” Vanessa said with a cold smile. “You’re not the only former scout sniper in New York.” Her eyes flicked up to the figure on the rooftop. “Henry would be happy to put a bullet through both Mitchell Ellison and Miss Page’s skulls right now; especially since you treated him so poorly at my party on Friday.”

Frank’s stomach clenched. He could easily shoot Vanessa Fisk and her driver right now, but he was no match for the sniper on the roof. “What do you want?” he hissed.

“Get in the car,” Vanessa gestured. “We don’t have much time.”

Frank stood frozen. _Fuck_. He had to warn Karen to stay inside. He had to - - -

“In the car NOW, or I’ll order Henry to take his shot. I have him on speaker phone, so if you try to shoot me he’ll know to take out Miss Page.”

 _“Breathe,”_ Frank told himself. “ _Your Ka-Bar is in your boot. You still have the upper hand. Give yourself time to study your opponent.”_ He opened the passenger door and slid inside as Vanessa made room for him. The car slowly glided down the street away from Ellison’s apartment. 

“Give me your gun and your cell phone,” Vanessa commanded.

“Call Henry off,” he shot back.

“Again: Henry is on speaker,” she waved her phone in Frank’s face. “Give me your gun and your phone. Now.”

Sighing, Frank handed the gun and cell phone over. Vanessa gave a triumphant smile then she addressed her own phone. “Stand down Henry. Meet us on the corner of Clinton and Carroll St.” She looked down at Frank’s phone which had begun to vibrate. “Oh dear. Miss Page is calling you. She must wonder where you are. Too bad.” She turned the phone off throwing it and the weapon in her large purse.

 _“Karen. Christ. What was she going to think?”_ Frank felt his blood boiling, but he willed himself to keep a neutral face. He couldn’t let Vanessa Marianna Fisk sense his anxiety. He’d told Karen to head back to the warehouse if something went wrong; he had to believe she would do just that.

Frank felt a wave of relief as the car slowed and the same bulky man he’d knocked unconscious at Less Galleries jumped into the front passenger seat of the car. The man, Henry, carried a large duffle bag and Frank could tell from the clatter it made that the sniper had packed up his rifle when he left his rooftop lookout. Karen and Ellison were safe for now. 

As Frank wordlessly watched the man get comfortable, his gaze fell on the driver…and he felt a jolt of recognition followed by intense anger. Their chauffer was Sergeant Cole, the same sergeant who worked under Brett Mahoney. _Holy shit._

“What the hell!? YOU WORTHLESS LIAR!” Frank growled in Sergeant Cole’s direction. (Cole had the decency to visibly tense up at the sound of the Punisher’s voice.) “What game are you people playing at!?!”

The Kingpin’s wife clucked her tongue, “Now, now, no need to shout. Sergeant Cole isn’t your enemy and neither am I. Neither is my husband. In fact, we have an offer to make you.”

“Lady, you need professional help if you think I’d make ANY sort of deal with you!”

Vanessa frowned. “Considering the fact I know where Pete Castiglione lives, I suggest you mind your manners. Miss Page may be returning there, and you don’t need to make her day any worse.”

Frank took a deep breath. Shit. The witch was right. _“Please get back to the warehouse sweetheart,”_ he prayed. He locked eyes with Vanessa. “I’m listening,” he said.

“Todd Less has become an…obstacle in my husband’s ability to conduct business,” Vanessa stated.

“And by **business** you mean smuggling heroin to the Mob.”

“Don’t be smart,” Vanessa snapped. “My husband’s business deals do more to keep this city in order than ANY of your escapades or that of your fellow vigilantes. Regardless, Todd has been taking more than his fair share of payment. He also knows…too much about Wilson’s personal affairs. We need Todd Less to **disappear** quickly, so…we’re offering to let you _“end”_ him in exchange for protection from the authorities.”

“Excuse me?” Frank was genuinely confused.

Vanessa swallowed and for a second Frank could see how uncomfortable Wilson’s deals actually made her. “Todd Less was part of Operation Blacksmith along with Billy Russo and William Rawlins. The same operation that contributed to your family’s dea - - ”

“You mean CAUSED my family’s MURDERS!” Frank snarled feeling a searing heat flush his face. The anger in his voice caused Henry to turn around in his seat. Frank paused, trying to control his anger. _“Breathe. Don’t let your opponent catch you off guard.”_

“Ex-exactly,” Vanessa worked to regain her composure. “Wilson feels…responsible…for how his subordinates handled the situation at the carousel. By way of apology, we are WILLING to step aside and let you avenge your family.”

Frank’s heart skipped a beat. The feeling of betrayal he’d been battling with ever since he saw the picture of Todd Less and Billy Russo was rising to the surface…but he’d promised Karen he would give her a chance to talk to Todd. He’d PROMISED her.

Vanessa smiled, and Frank’s stomach flipped. She could tell he’d considered her offer for a millisecond. “You’ll be doing us a favor by getting rid of Todd; and, in return for that favor Sergeant Cole will ensure you have protection within NYPD. You can take on a whole new identity. You can start a whole new life.”

Frank gaped at the Kingpin’s wife. Did this woman actually believe he could be bought like a common criminal? Did Wilson Fisk actually believe Frank would trust him after being set up to take the fall for Friday’s shootings? Something wasn’t adding up…but he had to keep Vanessa thinking he was interested in the deal.

“What about Karen?” he asked cautiously.

Vanessa shrugged. “Wilson was unaware of Todd’s _fascination_ with her. With Todd gone, Miss Page will have nothing to fear.” Frank noticed Vanessa couldn’t look him in the eye.

There was a tense moment of silence. Frank remembered watching the recording of Karen confessing to Wilson Fisk that she killed James Wesley. He could vividly picture the pure hatred in Fisk’s face. He could picture it because he’d felt it himself after his family’s murders. Frank KNEW Vanessa was lying. Yet…thoughts of Billy and his family at the carousel; images of Todd attacking him in the graveyard; his children’s lifeless bodies; Maria…it was all running through Frank’s head. 

_“Just play along until you can escape,”_ he told himself. “Ok,” he said aloud. “You’ve got a deal.”

Vanessa smiled. “Wonderful.” In that moment, Frank wondered if he’d made a deal with the devil.

* * *

_Meanwhile, as Frank heads to Vanessa’s penthouse._

Dinah tapped her foot impatiently as she scanned the street outside of her apartment building. Where the hell was Brett? David glanced at her. “You must have had a large cup of coffee this morning. You are rarin’ to go.”

Dinah rolled her eyes. “Yes I am “rarin’ to go” and get this case wrapped up. The longer we wait the harder it will be to catch Vanessa Marianna Fisk and the trail of money took from Mario’s Pizza.” She paused before adding in a low voice, “You really came through on this case David. Finding the hit list Wilson Fisk laid out for his wife and Todd Less pushed this case forward with my superiors and NYPD. We’ve been authorized to detain them both for questioning.”

David looked sheepish. “I didn’t really do much. Karen is the one who found the list.”

“Well until this is over, YOU are the story I’m sticking with in front of my boss or Brett. Frank and Karen are still liable to be brought into custody by the police,” Dinah muttered in a low voice.

“You don’t think the Bulletin article will help their case?” David looked worried.

Dinah sighed, “I _think_ it will, but not until Vanessa Fisk and Todd Less are standing before us as living, breathing suspects…which is why we need to HURRY. Where the hell is Brett?!”

Thankfully, Brett’s car pulled up beside her apartment building a few moments later. Before Dinah could open her mouth to chastise the detective for running late, he held up a hand. “I know. I know. I’m late. My supposed right-hand man Sergeant Cole called in sick. Such bullshit. I had to scramble to get the court documents stating I have a warrant to question Mrs. Fisk. Damn, it’s been a long Monday already and it’s not even noon.”

“Sooo…exactly how is this questioning thing going to work?” David asked as he and Dinah piled into Brett’s car.

“Homeland Security is charging Vanessa Fisk and Todd Less with smuggling narcotics into the United States and international money laundering,” Dinah smiled. “Brett and the NYPD will get them on homicide charges and the sale of narcotics.”

“Glad we’ve got all our bases covered,” David muttered absent-mindedly. 

Dinah glanced over to see him text an unmarked number. Frank. It had to be. When David didn’t get a response, she saw him text a “Foggy Nelson.” Seeing her stare, David slid his phone over for her to read the text:

 _Call Karen. Let her know we’ve got a warrant. Tell Uncle Pete to turn his damn phone on._

Dinah nodded slightly. She was glad to know Frank and Karen were safe outside the city limits.

“You two are awfully quiet back there,” Brett said.

“It’s Monday morning,” Dinah shrugged. She hoped Brett hadn’t figured out they were communicating with Frank and Karen. Soon the pair would be able to come out of hiding. Dinah took a breath and prayed New York traffic would be kind to them as they drove towards Vanessa Fisk’s penthouse.

* * *

_What the hell am I doing here?_ Frank wondered.

His heart continued to hammer as he rode the elevator up to Vanessa Marianna Fisk’s penthouse apartment. He couldn’t believe that woman had calmly dropped him and Sergeant Cole off in front of her building; told that deadbeat Cole to wait while Frank attended to “ _his business”_ ; and said “Good luck Mr. Castle. Mr. Less is upstairs waiting for me.” Then, the Kingpin’s wife took her body guard and drove away saying she “had a cruise to catch.” Frank could see through her prim exterior: That lady didn’t want to be ANYWHERE near her apartment if things got out of hand between him and Todd Less. Which led him back to the question: What was he doing here? 

Frank felt himself growing increasingly angry as he thought about Todd Less carrying on Operation Blacksmith in Russo’s absence. It was a hot, burning anger that seared Frank’s soul. Todd Less was part of a greater evil, an evil that took away his wife and babies. Todd deserved to die…and yet…the one thing Frank kept picturing more than his family’s dead bodies was Karen. As Frank leaned back against the wall of the elevator and closed his eyes, he could see the look of fear and hope in Karen’s eyes when she told him she had to try talking to Todd. Frank feared he would lose Karen if he waged his own war against Todd Less. Was he willing to do that? Was he willing to lose her? Was that why he was here?

As the elevator door opened, Frank knew his answer.

It was deathly quiet as the Frank stepped into Vanessa’s penthouse. He scanned the lavish entryway which opened to a beautiful kitchen. Empty. Then, he scanned the pristine living room complete with over-the-top furniture and floor to ceiling glass windows showcasing all of Manhattan. Empty as well. Where was that bastard Todd Less…no…make that Todd Neiman? Suddenly, Frank registered that one of the giant glass windows was actually a door leading to a balcony. His trigger finger twitched as he saw a figure turning to walk back inside.

“Good morning ma’am. Figured you called me over this early to talk about that horrible article featured in the Bulletin this morning.” Todd was stepping back into the living room; luckily, his face was still turned towards the view of the city. “That reporter is a - -” The words died on Todd’s lips as he turned to see the Punisher standing there. “Wha…how…you?”

“AAARRRGGGHHH!” Frank lunged at the man pushing him into the glass door.

“Fuck!” Todd yelled as he tried to push Frank off him. They fell to the ground in a shower of broken glass.

Frank felt the glass tearing at his face and hands, but he didn’t care. Todd kept trying to kick him, but the adrenaline coursing through Frank’s veins seemed to amplify his strength by one-hundredfold. He pinned Less to the ground, one hand clutching the man’s throat while the other punched him.

“YOU TWO-TIMING PIECE OF SHIT!” Frank cried. “You felt angry because life dealt you a bad hand – is that it? Is that why you teamed up with the Kingpin? Is that why you took Billy’s place after he died?” He punched Todd in the face. “You desecrated good men and women to smuggle heroin and money! Does that make you feel better about yourself?? Does it?!” He punched Todd again who was trying to cover his face with his hands. “I SHOULD KILL YOU! I should end your life right here…but I’m NOT going to!”

Frank put his fist down as he said these words. Todd looked up in both fear and awe, probably because the Punisher was blinking rapidly, fighting back tears. “Killing you won’t bring my family back! It won’t save the city from Wilson Fisk! It won’t do anything,” Frank yelled even though he was trembling. “And I won’t…I WON’T throw away the only good thing in my life in order to kill you.” He stood up, wiping blood off his hands. 

Todd crouched into a little ball on the floor in front of Frank. “Wha…what are you…saying?” he gasped.

“I’m saying that your _mentor_ wants you dead. She hired me to do the job, but killing you isn’t worth losing Karen!” Frank growled. “Now listen to me: You’re going to leave this apartment. Then, you’re going to leave this city. You will never come back, and you will NEVER threaten Karen again!” Frank leaned forward to give Todd a hand and help him up.

Todd took the outstretched hand. “Ok. Ok. I’ll go. Just don’t…don’t hurt me anymore.” He began to stand up, but lost his balance. 

Falling into Frank, Todd gripped his left arm for balance…and that’s when Frank felt the man drive a needle into his radial artery.

_God. No. Karen._

Frank let out a groan, but it was too late: He could feel the icy effect of whatever sedative Todd had administered coursing through his body.

_Karen. No. Need to warn her._

As Frank’s vision began to cloud, he felt a sharp pain as Todd punched him in the face. The room seemed to be growing dark as his body sailed towards the floor, his face landing on a pillow of broken glass. From somewhere far away, he heard Todd murmuring. “Don’t worry. We’ll be seeing Karen soon.”

* * *

“Damn this traffic,” Brett cursed. “It’s taking us forever to drive a few blocks.” He glanced at the dashboard where his phone was buzzing. Caller ID said it was Mitchell Ellison. 

“You shouldn’t have your phone out while you’re driving,” David stated matter-of-factly.

Brett was about to retort, when he heard more than static on his radio. _“All units. We have a report of shots fired at 66 th Street and Madison Avenue outside of the Park Avenue Suites.” _Brett felt an odd flipping sensation in his stomach. 66th Street and Madison Avenue was…

“That’s the address of Vanessa Marianna Fisk,” Dinah said. From the tone of her voice, Brett could tell she was also spooked.

“What the hell now?” Brett wondered as his car neared the front of the penthouse. He could see a few cop cars already there. It was odd; people seemed to be crowding around - -

“Cole!” Brett gasped recognizing the figure slumped in front of the penthouse door. He practically jumped out of his seat before stopping the car. “COLE!?” Other cops he knew on the force made way so Brett could move through the crowd.

Running over to the young man, Brett felt his heart beating out of his chest. “ _No. Please God; he’s practically a kid.”_ He heard Dinah let out a gasp behind him. The young sergeant was still alive, but he had been shot badly. He was bleeding out, and there wasn’t much time left.

Brett knelt down beside the dying man. “ _My fault...”_ Cole was wheezing, _“Todd knew…he knew Fisk was out to…to get him. Punisher was gonna…let him live, but Todd knew…My fault…just wanted my mom…”_ The light disappeared from his eyes.

Brett felt his head spinning. He instinctively knew the only reason Sergeant Cole could have been outside this apartment building was if he was dirty. “H-How did this happen?”he choked out the words.“We got reports of gun shots about 5 minutes ago. No witnesses; we’re pulling the security cameras from the front door of the apartment now.”

From some far away place he heard Dinah tell David to go look at the video feed. Brett just knelt there holding the young man’s hand. After what seemed like centuries, Brett felt Dinah’s hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see tears in her eyes. “There…there are no words,” she mumbled in a way that made Brett think she’d felt a similar pain. She paused before adding, “You need to see the security footage.”

Brett followed Dinah into the apartment lobby’s side office where David and a group of police were crowding around a TV displaying the video feed. David’s face was white. The man stood up and whispered to Dinah and Brett, “This wasn’t part of the plan. They were supposed to stay hidden until Vanessa Fisk and Todd Less were in custody.” Brett was confused at first, and then he understood: Watching the footage he saw Vanessa’s car deposit Sergeant Cole and Frank Castle. Castle made his way to the elevator…yet he had no visible weapons. Ten minutes later, Sergeant Cole headed to the elevator. When he reappeared on screen, he and Todd Less were hoisting a lifeless Frank Castle outside into a plain grey car. Then Todd turned, and shot Cole.

“Cole said Frank Castle was going to let Less live. Apparently his plan didn’t work either.” Brett said grimly. At that moment, a familiar face appeared at the door. “I’m here to verify some statements about the shooting,” Mitchell Ellison barked holding up his press badge. Brett, David, and Dinah stood up without a word and followed him into the lobby leaving the bewildered policemen behind.

“Now’s not the time,” Brett began.

“Karen Page and Frank Castle came to my home this morning,” Ellison cut him off. “They’re trying to intercept a source they believe is connected to this whole mess. I-I told them where I was supposed to meet the source tonight.”

“You saw them!” Brett yelped. “When?!”

“Maybe two hours ago,” the report stated. “I tried calling you but-“

David cut him off. “Where were they going to meet this source?” His eyes grew wide as Ellison showed him a slip of paper. “Shit! Shit! That’s where they’ve been…Shit! I’m calling Foggy. We’ve got to get in contact with Karen!”

Brett gaped at him, suddenly realizing how David came upon that hit list. “Are you telling me Foggy’s been in contact with her? After I told him and you to tell me if you...Goddamnit! You all are not the police!” He looked at Dinah who gave an apologetic shrug.

David held up a hand in protest. “Lecture me later. Todd knows where their hideout is. We may be running out of time!”

Brett thought back to the security footage. _“What the hell are you planning Todd Less?”_


	22. A Little Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen tries escaping from Todd Less, and doesn’t go well. She and Frank will need a miracle to help them fight their way out of this mess…and the faith of their good friends to see them through to safety.

_Back to the present Monday, March 4 th_

“Hello Karen.” Todd Less gave a chilling smile. Karen remembered that smile all too well. Once upon a time, it was the smile Todd Neiman flashed before beating Kevin with a tire iron.

Icy fingers clenched around Karen’s stomach. She stood halfway up, keeping one had on Frank’s chest as if trying to protect him from Todd’s glare. Looking down at Frank, she felt her heart break. He looked like he’d been punched repeatedly. Dried blood covered his face and neck, and his arms were pulled awkwardly behind him so that his hands were zip-tied around the back of the small kitchen chair.

“What the hell did you do to him?” Karen whispered.

Todd’s mouth curled in a sneer. “Your boyfriend did it to himself. He had the gall to actually believe I’d leave this city and you alone just because he told me to. He was so caught up in his own rage he didn’t notice the little surprise I had for him in my jacket. Don’t worry, the sedative will wear off just enough so that he can watch me kill you. I have to give it to you Karen. You charmed the big bad Punisher.” He stepped closer as he spoke.

Karen saw her chance: She ducked underneath him and ran towards the door. If she could get Curt’s Glock from the truck she could - - Todd grabbed her by the arm. “Not so fucking fast!” Karen turned towards his face and drove Curt’s car keys towards his eyes. “Son of a bitch!” Todd howled…yet he didn’t let go. Karen felt her body being shoved to the warehouse floor, and Todd kicked her. She bit her lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.

For a moment, time seemed to slow down. Karen could feel her heart pounding and vision blurring as she tried to figure out how to fight Todd off. She felt him grip her by the waist and begin to pull her upright, but right before he did Karen caught a slight movement in the corner of her eye…Frank had slowly turned his bruised wrists towards one another; the first step in breaking free of his zip ties. The movement was very subtle, but it gave Karen a sense of hope: Frank Castle was waking up.

* * *

_Two Hours earlier..._

Dinah stood outside Vanessa Marianna Fisk’s penthouse shaking. _“This has to end,”_ she thought to herself. At least twelve killed on Friday, Sergeant Cole was dead, and now Frank and Karen may be too. She looked over at Brett who was talking to some fellow NYPD officers. He looked broken...it was as if a part of his spirit had died with Cole. If Brett was losing hope, how were they going to find Frank and Karen? How were they going to catch Fisk?

She thought back to the security feed. To Vanessa’s car. How the witch had called out to Frank that she had a cruise to catch. Then Vanessa had headed towards the water...towards the harbor. _“The merchant ship at Pier 3 wasn’t delivering goods. It was here to take something away.”_ Suddenly, Dinah had an idea.

She dialed Agent Thompson. “Meet me at Pier 3 with our warrant.”

Walking over to the group of police, she put a hand on Brett’s shoulder. “Get David. Have him take you to Frank’s hideout. I’m going to the harbor.”

Brett looked at her blankly. “Just trust me,” Dinah said. “We’re going to finish this.”

* * *

_One Hour earlier…_

Matt let out a long sigh as he sank into the wooden pew. Clinton Church was empty this afternoon, and he was grateful for the quiet. He needed a peaceful place to reflect. He’d felt a lead weight in his stomach since turning his back on Karen and Fra - - no the Punisher. _He would not let himself humanize the Punisher any more that he already had._ He wanted to be angry at Karen for lying to him about her involvement with the Punisher, yet the only emotion he could identify was sadness. It was a sadness bordering on loss. The same kind of loss he’d felt when he and Foggy had briefly broken up the law firm. Why? Why did he feel like he’d let down his friend?

Placing his head in his hands, Matt did the only thing he could at that moment. He began to pray. _“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.”_ Maybe that’s why he felt so sad…because he couldn’t change Karen’s mind? Because he’d been trying to control her feel - -

Suddenly, he felt a familiar presence sit down beside him. “I figured you were here since the office was empty,” Foggy’s voice washed over Matt in a soft wave. “I thought you were working from home,” Matt muttered.

He felt Foggy take a deep breath. “I realized I wouldn’t be able to get anything done until we talked about Karen.”

“What exactly is there to talk about?” Matt snapped in a heated whisper as he stood up gripping his cane. “Karen **lied** to me - - to us! She **lied** about aiding a wanted criminal, not once but multiple times. And you – you ALLOWED it to happen. Why did you do that?”

The pew shook as Foggy stood up quickly, bumping his knee against the wood. “You know why I was Frank Castle’s legal counsel when we first chose to represent him!? Because. You. Weren’t. There. You were too busy chasing after Elektra and your mentor to be bothered with getting to know your own client. You were too busy to notice Karen was hurting when you purposely ignored her. You were too busy to recognize how hard she was working on Castle’s case!” Matt could feel the frustration emitting from his friend’s voice. “And you know who checked on Karen after news broke that the Punisher had used her as a human shield? Me. I checked on her all by myself. **Why** was I by myself? Oh – that’s right: You. Weren’t. There.”

Matt felt a tightness in his throat as Foggy spoke. He couldn’t find the energy to argue.

“You say you’re Karen’s friend,” Foggy continued, “But you haven’t acted like it Matt. Not in a long time. If you had actually been willing to be a friend, maybe she would have told you what was going on between her and Fra – FRANK!” He spat out the man’s name as if daring Matt to fault him for using it. “Continue to hold a grudge if you want, but it will cost you your friendship with Karen.” Foggy paused letting the weight of his words sink into the quiet space between them.

Matt felt his eyes burning. Foggy was right. He hadn’t been much of a friend. “I’m…I’m sorry Foggy. Y-Y-You’re right. I haven’t been much of a friend to Karen…or to you. I just…I don’t want to see her get hurt by the Punish- - by Castle. How can you be so sure he…loves her?”

There was a fluttering sound as Foggy let out a long sigh. “I-I’m not one-hundred percent sure, but I have to have faith. Faith in Karen and her judgement…and faith in the man I know to be Frank Castle. I know you don’t want to hear it, but you two are more alike than you know.”

Matt made a sort of choking noise that was both a sob and a laugh. “Why would you say that?”

“You both have very strong ideas about morality. You both care deeply about the people in your lives…and you are both stubborn.” The faint note of irony in Foggy’s voice was a welcome sound.

Matt was quiet for a moment. He’d always felt protective of Karen. He still remembered the fearful young woman they’d chosen to represent in court. He’d chosen to take on Karen’s case because she was willing to put her faith in him. She didn’t blindly trust others. Could Matt really trust her judgement of Castle. Could he really put his faith in the man he’d only wanted to know as the Punisher?

Before Matt could speak, Foggy’s cell rang clear as a bell in the silent church. He heard his friend fumbling for his phone. “It’s David Lieberman,” Foggy said. Matt allowed himself to listen to his friend’s conversation. Typically, he would focus on noises farther away from him when friends made phone calls, but Lieberman was connected to Castle. Matt had a feeling this call was important.

“Hey David,” Foggy said in a tone that Matt assumed meant they’d talked earlier that morning. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you earlier. Karen didn’t answer my call, but I’m going to try again in a - -”

“When did you try calling her?” Lieberman’s voice sounded a little too high to Matt; like he was trying not to panic.

“Uuuuhhh…I tried around 8am this morning, then again at noon, and about an hour and a half ago. I figured she may have turned her phone off again.”

“Fuck!” Lieberman cursed. At that moment Matt could hear very faint yelling in the background. A voice shouting _“You’re going to leave this city. And you will NEVER threaten Karen again!”_ It was Castle’s voice…yet Foggy couldn’t hear it.

“David is everything ok?” Foggy’s voice was growing concerned.

“N-No something’s gone **wrong**.” The fear in Lieberman’s voice was palpable. “I don’t know why or how Frank got back into the city, but he ended up confronting Todd Less. I’m at Vanessa Fisk’s apartment right now, and security feed on her balcony shows Frank telling Todd Less to leave the city, b-but Less must have known something was up. He drugged Frank and kidnapped him. He knows where Frank and Karen have been hiding.”

“WHAT?” Matt and Foggy exclaimed in unison.

Lieberman must have heard Matt’s voice because his next words were directed at him and not Foggy. “Look Murdock, I KNOW you can hear me. I think Todd is using Frank as bait to get to Karen. He already killed one of Brett Mahoney’s men; he obviously doesn’t care about what Wilson Fisk will do to him; he’s out for blood. I – Frank and Karen may be in real danger. You may be the only person who can get to them in time…Please…Please help.”

Matt could sense Foggy looking at him. “Matt. **Please**.”

Amid the fear racing through his body, Matt also felt a sense of calm. He knew with a sudden clarity that even if Todd Less had drugged Frank, the man would be no match for Castle’s rage if he attempted to harm Karen. He had faith Frank would protect Karen for as long as possible. Still, time was running out.

Matt put a hand on Foggy’s shoulder. “Get Marci’s car. I need you to drive me as close to the Marshland Conservatory as possible. I can find them from there.”

 _“You two had better hold on,”_ Matt prayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: The battle against Todd Less.


	23. The Man Named Less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen and Frank learn why Todd has been after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are always two sides to a story ~ Anonymous

_Frank’s waking up._ Karen felt her heart skip a beat as she registered Frank ever so slowly rubbing his bruise wrists together. _He’s trying to break the zip ties._ The thought gave her a rush of energy that overpowered the pain Todd had inflicted on her side. She felt Todd pulling her up; he’d latched on to her by the waist. He was close enough…

“ **GET OFF ME**!” Karen cried as she drove her elbows into his torso. He grunted in response, but he didn’t loosen his grip. Just as Karen felt her feet plant firmly on the warehouse floor, she realized Todd was holding her over the kitchen sink. She saw the faucet running. Saw the water inches from her face…

Karen barely had time to take a deep breath before Todd forced her head under the water.

“Now **you** get to feel what it’s like to be **alone** and cold!” she heard Todd yell. 

Karen tried not to panic as she felt her breath escaping her…she was starting to feel lightheaded… _Got to keep fighting…_ She drove her elbows at Todd again, only to have him pull her head upward. “Gaahh,” she gasped. “Wh-Why are you doing this!?”

She felt Todd shiver above her. “You really don’t understand why?” He shoved her head back into the water. Just as she felt her breath failing, he pulled her up again.

“Did you EVER stop to think about how I felt when you defended your brother!? Did you EVER think about where I was coming from?!?” 

Karen gasped in response, barely taking a breath before Todd forced her head down again. She felt the memories flow around her along with the icy water. 

***

_“The Marine Corps? You? You’re joining the Marine Corps?” Todd took a swing of Jack as he spoke, hoping to muffle the wistful tone in his voice._

_Billy gave him a cocky side-ways glance as he took the flask from Todd’s hand. “Yep.”_

_Todd wasn’t surprised that the answer came without hesitation. After all, why should Billy be worried? Todd knew all his friend had to do was smile, and recruiters would be mesmerized. Prissy bitch._

_“So you’re leaving?” Todd tried to stuff the jealousy bubbling up inside of him. He should be happy for his friend. Billy had been through hell in the various homes he’d been placed at throughout their years as fosters. He deserved to get a new start at life…Still, Todd couldn’t help but wish he was the one leaving Fagan Corners. He looked around the dingy apartment (their social worker had done **one** useful thing in her career and set them up with a place prior to their exit from the system), and he felt a sense of panic. Was this it? Was he going to be stuck scraping by in this godforsaken town while his friends moved on with their lives?_

_“Hey bro,” Billy snapped his fingers in front of Todd’s face. “Enough with the pity party. You’ll find someone else to help you sell your dope. You’ve always been good at working people over.” He took another sip from the flask and flashed his playboy smile. “Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be in the military forever. I’ll do my five years; earn some money for school; and then I’ll come find you. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be a fancy artist by the time I kiss Uncle Sam goodbye.” Billy frowned at Todd’s silence. “Look Todd…I’ve got to make some money of my own, and I’m tired of risking jail time to do it.”_

_Todd nodded, avoiding Billy’s eyes as he got up from the couch. “I get you,” he mumbled. “I know you’ve been talking about the whole being-a-Marine-thing for a while.” He moved towards the front door. “I-I **am** happy for you Bill. I just…I gotta figure out what I’m going to do now that you’re pulling out of our agreement.” He walked out into the muggy July heat without another word._

_Walking up the street, the gravity of Billy’s decision hit him. “Fuck!” Todd cried. He was alone. He really alone…with no real money…and no support. Working at the local auto body shop paid alright, but it was just enough to cover his rent and living expenses. The cash he was stowing away for school – for his ticket out of Fagan Corners - was the result of the coke and benzos he sold at parties on Friday and Saturday nights. Billy, with his good looks and charisma, had played a crucial role in getting stressed out seniors and the sorority/fraternity crowd home for summer break to pay into Todd’s future. Now his best friend and partner was leaving, and Todd would be left to fend for himself once again. Billy swore up and down he’d find a way to pay Todd back for all his help over the years, but Todd knew better that to rely on empty promises. What was he going to do?_

_The garish light of Penny’s Place blinded Todd’s vision. Maybe he had meant to walk this far because his stomach began to rumble. The shock of Billy’s announcement was wearing off leaving Todd numb except for a joint and whiskey induced hunger. It was well past 6pm, but lights still shone from the diner windows. Todd had heard from locals that when Mrs. Page was alive, she’d feed any poor soul that walked into the diner regardless of the time. With that thought in mind, he walked up the steps and slowly opened the door…That’s when he heard shouting in the kitchen._

_“DAD! Please. Listen. To. Me. We can’t afford new counter tops! We are going broke!” A girl’s voice rang out in frustration._

_“Damnit Karen! I told you this is not up for discussion.” It was Paxton Page, the owner. Todd had barely heard the man speak the few times he’d eaten at the diner, but it was obvious Paxton had a voice. He sounded furious._

_“But…”_

_“ **NO ‘but’s’ Karen**!”_

_There was a sharp slapping sound. “This is what your mother wanted. I’ll find the money. Now, get out there and close up!”_

_If Todd wasn’t sober before, he was now. He watched with curiosity as a tall, blonde girl in a red flannel shirt stepped out of the kitchen. Even with the giant hand mark painting her face a reddish pink color, the girl was beautiful. Todd recognized her from school even though he’d only gone to Fagan Corner High for half of his senior year. Paxton’s daughter may have been a year behind him, but her name was well-known due to her work on the school newspaper. Todd stared at her blankly as his marijuana-and-Jack-clouded brain searched for her name._

_“Oh!” The girl’s ocean blue eyes widened as she registered Todd standing in the doorway. “We’re closed but…can I get you anything to go?”_

_Her disorientation was cute. Todd immediately felt protective of her. This girl was too beautiful to be stuck in this nowhere town with an abusive asshole of a father. “Sorry,” he said, “I was just hoping I could grab a slice of pie or a cup of coffee.” He paused before adding, “I’m Todd. Todd Neiman. You write for the school newspaper right?”_

_The girl looked down for a moment, pleased someone recognized her. Studying her, Todd realized a few things: The girl was smart; her writing proved that fact…It was obvious from the argument he’d walked into that she needed money…Plus, she was beautiful enough to distract drunk frat bros (and some drunk chicks) when they were trying to do the math and pay up for their pills._

_“Yeah, I write for the school paper…I’m Karen. Karen Page.”_

_In that moment, Todd knew he’d found Billy Russo’s replacement._

***

Karen gasped for air as Todd pulled her head up again. Water streamed down her face as she coughed. She kept trying to drive her elbows into Todd’s body without any luck. It was becoming harder to muster the energy to fight him. 

“We were a team!” Todd yelled. “We were going to use our money to get out of that shitty town. Then YOU turned your back on ME! You left me bleeding in the middle of nowhere! Did you really think I’d let that go!?”

Images flashed through Karen’s mind simultaneously: _Kevin telling her to take that scholarship…Todd’s face when she said she was considering Georgetown… and Frank by the river…Frank asking_ _“What do you want me to do Karen? Should I let it go?_ ” She took another deep breath as Todd pushed her head back under the water. This time he held her head down.

***

_Todd sat on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and glared at his sketchbook. He hadn’t slept well. The coming rain made his right shoulder bone ache all night…and with that ache came dreams of Karen. Todd replayed the night she shot him over and over again. It had been three years, but he could still remember every detail: The heat radiating off his camper as it crumbled to ash. Kevin Page’s sniveling voice. The cold feel of the tire iron in his hand. Mostly, he remembered Karen. How she hadn’t looked back after firing her gun._

_With the memories came a feeling of resentment more sharp and searing than anything he felt when Billy told him he was leaving for the Marine Corps. Karen-fucking-Page. Traitor. Todd had finally made his way to New York to study art; he was enrolled in a local community college in Brooklyn; he was working two jobs…but even during the most chaotic moments, he thought of Karen. Once he learned she’d fled Fagan Corners for the city, he’d been determined to move to New York himself. He would find her. He would find her and make her pay for leaving him._

_The buzz of his cell brought Todd back to the present. He’d been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t heard his phone ring. He flipped his phone open and smiled. There was a voicemail from Billy._

_“Hey Bro. How’s the art scene in New York? Hopefully you aren’t too busy because I’m coming to the city to celebrate! I just graduated from the MARSOC – er – the Marine’s special ops school. I’m taking leave and getting the hell out of North Carolina for a week. I met some interesting people while I was crawling through the dirt these past nine months. Some big wig named William Rawlins who works with us MAR- - uh - us special ops grads. Want to tell you about him. I’m taking the AMTRACK up tonight. Call me.”_

_Todd’s anger over Karen faded for a moment as he listened to Billy’s voice. Unlike the whore who ghosted him, Billy had kept in touch with Todd sending frequent updates on how his various trainings. He wondered about this “big wig” William Rawlins. His friend loved name-dropping, so this guy must be important._

_Just as Todd was about to call Billy back, an emerald green slipper caught his eye. He looked up and saw a beautiful woman - mid-thirties, auburn hair, sleek pants suit, and large portfolio case – staring down at him. “Art student?” she asked, gesturing to his sketch book. Todd shrugged, a little taken back by the woman’s elegance. “Trying to be one.”_

_The woman stretched out her hand. “Let me take a peek at it.” Todd handed her his sketch pad._

_He waited apprehensively as the woman thumbed through his work. “Good stuff,” she murmured. “I can see you’re also into pottery.” She paused, eyes widening at one page in particular. “I LOVE this one! She’s beautiful. You’ve got talent kid.” The woman pulled out a business card and marked the page in his sketch book with it. She handed the book back with a smile. “I’m opening my own gallery soon. Feel free to reach out if you ever need anything Mr…”_

_“Todd Neima- - er - - Todd Less. Changing my name soon. It’s a long story, but it has a lot to do with that sketch. It’s my motivation for starting a new life.”_

_The woman rolled her eyes playfully. “You sound like an artist already. All that angst. Well, Todd Less, I look forward to seeing your work.” She walked up the stairs leaving a trail of perfume in her wake._

_Todd opened his sketch pad and took out the business card._ _Vanessa Marianna_ _. There was a cell number underneath her name. Billy wasn’t the only one good at collecting names. Todd would remember her._

_He looked down at the sketch Vanessa had commented on: It was a portrait of Karen._

***

Karen felt as if the icy water was enveloping her entire body… _God I want to breathe_ …It was becoming harder to fight Todd… _So lightheaded…_

Images continued to dance around in Karen’s mind: There was Kevin running through the woods as they played tag. _He didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t deserve to have a sister who gave up on everyone…_ She saw Matt and Foggy sitting across from her in her jail cell. Smiling reassuringly as they told her they would take on her case. _They care about me. Even when we’ve been mad as hell at each other, they care about me. Matt. Foggy…_ Then there was Frank, restrained in his hospital bed. She saw the spark of hope in his eye as she handed him that picture of his family. The spark was brief, but it was there. _An after. I want there to be an after for you…_

Somehow, Karen found the strength to kick her foot back into Todd’s knee. She heard a hiss from somewhere above the water, and felt Todd loosen his grip. It was her chance to fight back.

Karen threw her head up and back, gasping for air as she slammed her forehead into Todd’s chin with a loud crack.

“Fuck!” Todd cried. He involuntarily released Karen from his hold as the motion sent him stumbling backwards.

Karen lurched away from the sink. She grasped the edge of the counter for balance, feeling dizzy from the loss of oxygen. The room was a blur of color and sound…then a familiar roar full of gravel and honey filled her ears.

“YOU BASTARD!” The voice trembled with anger and exhaustion. 

As Karen’s vision came back into focus, she saw Frank lunging towards Todd Less. One of his boot laces was untied and his wrists were bleeding; all signs of how he’d cut his zip ties. “I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE HER ALONE!” he snarled.

Karen could tell the sedative was still in Frank’s system because his punch completely missed Todd.

Their attacker moved to one side, crouching like a tiger ready to pounce. “And I told you Karen’s death would be even sweeter knowing it’s your undoing!”

***

_The newspaper in Todd’s hand was shaking, the written words on the page dancing in front of him, as he fought against gravity to finish reading the article. It was no use; however, because the C-130 would be landing in a few moments. Once the landing gear was locked, Todd would be stepping off into his new life...yet for a brief moment, he wished he was back in New York. He still had unfinished business there…Karen Page…After all this time of wondering what had happened to Karen, he’d finally located her._

_The New York Times didn’t have a ton of information. It only stated that a Miss Karen Page’s name had been cleared in the scandal concerning Union Allied. He was surprised Vanessa never mentioned anything about the homicide. She and Wilson Fisk were apparently an item, so she must have learned something about the drama at his parent company. It was a pretty big deal to have one’s former secretary falsely accused of murder. Karen Page. A ghost for all these years, yet still in New York. She’d been close enough for Todd to confront her…until 72 hours ago._

_Todd closed his eyes as the behemoth beast he sat in slowed on the runway. He watched a few other contractors and Marines in desert camouflage unstrap themselves and shuffle out of the plane. He sighed. Confronting Karen would have to wait until he was back home._

_Todd was greeted by a scorching, blistering wind as he stepped off the C-130 in Qatar. “Damn it’s hot,” he moaned. He felt disoriented for a moment; the sun shining blinded him as it shone off white shipping containers littering the side of the runway. This was definitely not New York. Where was he supposed to go? Looking around, Todd reminded himself that the small US air base he’d landed at may be a dump…but it housed the men and women who would unknowingly make him a fortune._

_He scanned the area. There were a few mechanics – probably Air Force – inspecting the C-130. Hard workers, but not the group he was looking for…then something caught his eye at the tent by the end of the runway. There was a small group of Marines (those high and tight buzz cuts were a dead giveaway) standing in formation. Todd could make out two officers – probably captains - addressing the group. One, a tall, well-built man with a chiseled face, was talking in a low, deep voice. His Marines were hooked on every word. The second officer turned and flashed Todd that familiar playboy smile: Billy. Todd felt a wave of relief as his friend left the formation and walked over. This was Todd’s first time in the big leagues of “art dealing” and he was grateful to have his best friend to back him up._

_In the two and a half years since Billy introduced him to William Rawlins, Todd’s life had changed dramatically. Rawlins had taken an interest in Todd’s abilities as an artist – among other talents – and paid him well to be the front man at a couple local galleries where government workers came to purchase paintings…and maybe a little cocaine under the table. It was good money and soon art school was just a hobby for Todd. Then, after his art teacher Vanessa Marianna caught the attention of the mythical Wilson Fisk, Rawlins volunteered Todd to act as one of the Kingpin’s go-betweens in moving “a little more than just art” out of the Middle East. Todd would play the part of art dealer or military contractor depending on his assignment. If he felt any guilt about lying to US men and women in uniform about what they were really shipping home in those body bags, he suppressed the guilt. Rawlins always put their jobs into perspective saying, “If not for the Wilson Fisk’s of the world, every power-hungry SOB would want to control the flow of drugs and money in and out of the US.” Todd was doing his part to keep society in order._

_“Hey brother,” Billy smiled giving him a slap on the back. “Hope you’re not too jet lagged. Welcome to my world.”_

_Todd shook his head. “I had a little something to put me to sleep on the plane. I just think I’m experiencing culture shock. This heat sucks! I can’t believe you’re going to spend twelve months stuck in Afghanistan. Why do you keep this Marine charade up? You could play the contractor role and come to Dubai with me.”_

_Billy shrugged. “Guess I’m used to it now. The Marines kind of remind me of how we grew up. It’s like I’m part of a big dysfunctional family.”_

_All of the sudden there was a peal of laughter from the formation. A young Marine, probably no more than 19 years old, was cackling, “Yeah! We’re gonna go over there and kil- -“_

_“LOCK IT UP!” The officer who’d been standing by Billy shut down the joking. The entire flight line seemed to fall silent hearing the thunder in the captain’s voice. “This isn’t a fucking video game Corporal. Yes, there are evil people out there, but there are also some just fighting to survive. We will be responsible for the death of someone’s father, someone’s grandfather, someone’s son. We might be at war, but you will show the other side respect. You got it?!”_

_“Y-Yes Sir,” the young man stammered._

_“Play time is over,” the captain barked. “Everyone go back to work!”_

_Todd could feel the Marine’s intensity. “Who is that?”_

_“Frankie,” Billy said with a smile. “Frank Castle. Best damn scout sniper I’ve ever met. His childhood was about as jacked up as ours. He took all his anger and channeled it into being a Marine. He’s ruthless when he needs to be, but he has a big heart.”_

_Todd saw the gleam of pride in Billy’s eyes as he spoke, and the familiar feeling of jealousy bubbled up inside him. “Does your Frankie know about our –“_

_“NO.” Billy glared at Todd. “Frank will NEVER know about the Blacksmith.”_

_Todd felt irritated. “If he’s the best scout sniper you’ve ever met, why keep him out of the loop?”_

_“Because he’s not like us,” snapped Billy. “Frank actually believes in the whole honor, courage, commitment thing. He considers Colonel Schoonover to be a father. He would never forgive me if he really knew he was fighting for Rawlings and Fisk.” After a moment of tense silence Billy added, “You do what you were hired to Todd. Leave Frank Castle **alone**.”_

_Todd would remember that conversation as the first sign he had lost his best friend._

_***_

Karen stood frozen for a moment. She could only watch Frank and Todd circle back and forth. 

Frank threw another punch, but he missed again. Todd backed up towards the staircase. “Billy worshipped you, and you turned your back on him! You killed my best friend! My brother!”

Frank gasped, struggling to stand straight. “B-Billy was my friend too, but I-I couldn’t stand by and let him kill innocent people. I had a responsibility to…”

“You’re not the only one who has to take responsibility,” Todd cut him off. “Karen abandoned me. She left me to die! Her punishment has been due for a long time. When I learned she was defending you, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. All it took was finding a way to set my revenge in motion. Wilson Fisk gave me that opportunity!”

The weight of Todd’s words struck Karen. Todd wasn’t acting on behalf of Wilson Fisk. He’d used his work for Fisk as an excuse to act out his revenge on both her and Frank. Yet…how could he have known about their connection?

***

_One year to the day they argued on that runway in Qatar, Todd sat waiting for Billy at a café a few blocks from Central Park. The Billy that called him asking to meet for lunch was not the cocky, self-assured Billy from his childhood. He’d sounded grim, uncertain, and scared._

_Todd couldn’t blame his friend for feeling worried. Todd been weighed down with apprehension and dread ever since Vanessa sent word that Wilson Fisk was going to prison. With the Kingpin of Crime in custody, their livelihoods could be at jeopardy. Todd had gotten the news while going through emails at an Internet café in Cairo, and spent an exorbitant amount of money to stay online an extra three hours reading all the details of how other workers at Union Allied had testified against Fisk. Some no-name law firm, Nelson and Murdock, had used their testimonies to put up an impressive case against the Kingpin. Members of the Blacksmith’s inner circle had been surprised by this, but not Todd. After all, Karen Page had aided the lawyers. It was like she was taunting Todd; continuing to ruin his life from afar. Todd had flown back to New York three weeks later to meet with Vanessa and Rawlings. He’d planned to find Karen; to finally confront her…then Billy called._

_“You look like shit,” he heard Billy joke as he approached the table. Todd studied him for a moment. Billy didn’t move with his usual swagger; instead, his friend was tiptoeing slowly like a scared animal. Todd huffed a small laugh. “I’m still jet lagged. What’s your excuse?”_

_Billy shrugged as he sat down. “I just – uh – I needed to be with a friend today.”_

_Todd rolled his eyes. Their friendship had been practically nonexistent since Qatar. A few emails here and there, but mostly about business. “I’m surprised you chose to see me today. Didn’t your unit just get back from Afghanistan earlier this week?” Isn’t it your special little day with your best bud? I thought you’d be at Central Park with Frank Castle and his family.”_

_Billy stared at the glass of water in front of him like it was the most fascinating thing ever. He swallowed, his voice a whisper. “I-it-Rawlins figured it was safer for me to stay away from Frank today.” Todd shot him a questioning glance. Billy looked down. “Things are getting out of hand. The CIA may have gotten wind about Operation Blacksmith. They’re starting to ask questions…wanting to reach out to members of Cerberus unit. Meanwhile, the Italians and Irish are chomping at the bit to take over the market now that Fisk is in prison. Rawlings figured out a way to…to keep too many people involved from talking. He talked to his source that works with the District Attorney.”_

_Todd heard ambulance sirens wailing in the distance. He felt his stomach drop. “Is something going down in the park?” Billy nodded. His face was white._

_As if on cue, the TV mounted on the café wall was overtaken by local news. “Live from Central Park, members of the Italian and Irish mafia are waging war on one another. Authorities deny any bystander casualties, but witnesses are saying a family may have been picnicking in the area where the violence broke out.”_

_“Jesus Billy,” Todd hissed. His friend was blinking rapidly. Todd struggled to find words of comfort. “Well, y-you said yourself things are getting out of hand. Frank Castle would have never agreed to continue the mission of Cerberus unit. It-it had to be done.”_

_Billy stood up immediately. There were tears in his eyes. “Fuck you Todd! That man was my best friend.” The words felt like a slap in the face._

_Todd watched Billy turn and leave the café. It was the last time he’d see his friend alive_

_In the two years that followed, Todd only communicated with Billy when Operation Blacksmith deemed it necessary. He moved around Cairo, Oman, and Qatar dancing between his roles as an “art dealer” and a “military contractor,” pretending to be too busy to notice as Billy’s emails became more disjointed, more fearful. Rumors were circulating that Billy suffered a breakdown after his security company, Anvil, went under. People were also insinuating that he’d gotten into a fight with a friend; a friend who’d somehow come back from the dead. Todd just ignored the rumors. Far away in a foreign country, Todd could pretend he never heard the names Billy Russo, Karen Page, or Frank Castle. Pretending worked…until he made trip back to New York to move some legitimate artwork into one of Vanessa’s galleries._

_His first clue something was wrong was the look on Vanessa’s face when he walked into her penthouse. “Is everything alright? I thought the new Mrs. Fisk would be on cloud nine?” He knew Wilson Fisk had returned to prison after a brief time on house arrest, but he didn’t care if his comment wounded Vanessa. As he’d grown more confident in his position, he felt less of a need to rely on her sponsorship._

_She simply glared at him. “My husband wants you back in New York,” she said. “He needs you to step into a new role in order to manage our operation.”_

_“Why is your husband asking for me personally?” He wasn’t prepared for the answer._

_“Because Billy Russo is dead.”_

_Todd felt his world tip to one side as Vanessa showed him the photos Fisk’s workers had obtained from their source at NYPD. Billy had been shot multiple times, yet no one was mourning his death. Looking at the photos of Billy’s lifeless body, Todd KNEW it was the work of Frank Castle._

_He spent the rest of the day pouring over news articles online, trying to piece together how Billy had met his end. He read of how Frank Castle had survived the shooting in the park; how he went after the mob; his supposed death; and his return as a vigilante. The thing that angered Todd most about Frank’s story was the person championing for him: Karen Page. Karen had abandoned him when he was trying to build a new life for them both, yet she defended this… monster. She would pay. They would both pay._

_  
_ _***_

“I’ve been following you both for a while now, but I couldn’t figure out how I’d bring you both together to kill you. Then Fisk started talking about taking care of the people on his hit list. When killing you both at the gallery fell through, I had to come with a new plan.”

Karen felt a chill run up her spine as she saw Todd reach under his jacket. She saw a gleam of mettle…

“I was going to make this look like a murder/suicide: Poor Karen Page drowned by the man she so ardently defended over the years. Then the poor Punisher would finally take his life. I guess shooting you both will have to do.”

Todd cocked his gun and turned towards Karen.

“NO!”

Frank jumped in front of her as a loud bang echoed in her ears.


	24. What Are The Odds?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd Less’s reign of terror comes to and end...but at what cost?

_A few minutes ago…_

There were two… _no_ …three heartbeats drumming in the distance. 

The drumming was growing stronger, but Matt was unsure of how far he was from Frank’s warehouse. Foggy’s heart was pounding so fast it overwhelmed Matt’s senses like a marching band blaring into his ears, making it difficult to pick up on the faint beating in the distance. Foggy’s driving didn’t help matters either. His friend must be gripping the steering wheel with an iron fist because every little movement on the woodland road rocked the SUV.

“Karen’s going to be ok Foggy,” Matt murmured. “I can hear her heart beating.” 

The SUV elevated momentarily as Foggy sped over a pot hole. “Are you saying that to calm me down OR to make yourself feel better?”

“Both.”

“For once I’ll let you lie,” Foggy chirped with a forced laugh.

Matt closed his eyes and tried to focus. He could still hear three heartbeats, but one was faint. Too faint. Thankfully it wasn’t Karen’s. Her heart seemed to be pumping at twice the normal speed. She was scared…maybe for whoever’s heart was faltering. _Frank_. Was it Frank’s heartbeat Matt was struggling to hear? He kept trying to focus on the direction of Karen’s heartbeat, but the wind and residual rain muffled the sound. “Are we almost to the Marshland?” he snapped.

“Y-Yes,” Foggy stuttered, “This car can only go so fast. Be patient; I thought **you** were the **calm** one.”

Matt opened his mouth to retort, but a gust of wind distracted him. A gust that brought the sound of voices with it.

 _“How long did you know Castle was out here?”_ came the gruff voice Matt knew well.

 _“Watch out for that dip in the road! Can you focus on driving please!”_ A second, worried voice. Matt used to find the man irritating, but now he felt a sense of relief knowing Frank’s friend was close behind.

_“Answer the question.”_

_“Don’t look at me like that! I haven’t known for long…just…two days ok. I’ve known two days.”_

_“Goddamn it! Two days! I could have brought Castle and Page into custody before this mess happened!”_

A silence…then the same worried voice: _“Are you…are you going to arrest him?”_

_“I don’t have a damn idea of what I’m going to do. Ever since Cole was…I…Castle is…FUCK...I don’t know what’s right anymore!”_

Matt could barely make out the rest, but it didn’t matter. Those words were enough to confirm that David Lieberman and Brett Mahoney were tailing Foggy as they’d promised. If Brett found Matt at Frank’s hideout, his identity would be in jeopardy. It didn’t matter now though because that third heart beat was faltering.

Matt was running out of time. “Unlock the passenger door Foggy,” he commanded.

“What?” Foggy squeaked. “ **Now**?”

“Slow down and unlock the door. I’m close enough to find my way to them. Follow me and park Marci’s car where no one will see you.”

“Please be safe,” Foggy said. Matt gave a small nod of his head. He heard the click of the door unlocking. He felt for the door handle…and in an instant he was rolling out of the SUV and bolting towards the warehouse. Towards the sound of three beating hearts.

* * *

_Back to the present…_

“NO!” Frank roared as Todd cocked his gun towards Karen. 

In that instant the adrenaline in his body overpowered the still-heavy-effect of Todd’s sedative. Frank felt himself leaping through the air momentarily. Then – as a loud bang seemed to tear through his body – Frank came to rest over Karen. He cradled her body under his, pressing his lips gently into the nape of her neck. For a moment, Frank flashed back to the first time he held Karen:

_He’d been hiding behind a dumpster in the alley across from District Attorney Reyes’s office after escaping jail. His mind was running a mile a minute as he planned how he would confront the DA and Colonel Schoonover about the Blacksmith. He remembered how his gut clenched when he saw Karen walking into the building with Murdock and Nelson; how he felt a sense of panic as a car drove by and rained bullets on the DA’s office. When he saw Karen walk out of that building alive but shaken by the gunfire, Frank didn’t even have to think about it. He **knew** he would follow her to her apartment. He’d told himself he was following her in case the Blacksmith had any more tricks up his sleeve…but a part of him knew that was a lie. He followed her because he wanted to see her again. When he stood in front of Karen and heard the safety of those faraway guns click off, he didn’t act out of surprise. He’d been _ **_ready_ ** _to take her in his arms. Then, just as now, Frank was humbled at how Karen – this brave, stubborn woman, who was strong as nails – immediately accepted his protection amid the storm of gunfire. How the pulse in her neck fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings under his lips as he pressed his body over hers. In that moment he’d known, even though he didn’t want to admit it, that he LOVED her. It had scared the HELL out of him. That’s why he tried to argue the case for her and Murdock once they were safely at that cursed diner. God, he’d been an idiot. Once they got out of this mess, Frank was going to tell Karen Page he loved her every damn day._

“FRANK!” Karen’s cry of fear brought him back to the very harsh reality of their situation. Only then did he realize he was screaming out in agony. He felt the sting of a bullet lodged underneath the left side of his ribcage and a sticky wet trail of blood trickling down his side. He groaned, willing himself to push through the pain. “ _You’re not going to die, Karen. Not on my watch.”_ The pain was so strong he wasn’t sure if he spoke out loud or not.

Pulling himself and Karen on to all fours, Frank began crawling like a bear towards the door to the garage. He hugged Karen close to his body forcing her to crawl with him. He expected to feel another bullet rip through his back, but there was silence. Todd had stopped for a moment; it was now or never. “K-Karen! Y-You’ve got to – to go when I tell you to. Get to the truck.”

“HELL NO! I’m not leaving you!”

“You GO NOW!”

Suddenly, there was a sound like breaking glass behind them. Frank turned his head…and watched Todd Less look up towards the staircase in horror. 

Above him, like an angel falling from heaven, was the Daredevil. 

_“Red.”_ Frank had never been so grateful to see that clown costume in his life.

“ **Damn you**!” Todd cried as the Daredevil crashed into him, striking their attacker with his cane. The gun fell out of Todd’s hand and tumbled across the floor. Red took the opportunity to wrestle Todd to the ground.

Everything was happening so fast, yet the pain made Frank feel like he was moving through water. The devil and Less were grappling…the gun lay a few feet away…if he could just reach it…but he was still too weak. Still, he had to protect Karen.

“Frank!” Karen let out a shaky breath, “Y-You promised I could talk to Todd.”

“What?” Frank rasped.

“Remember this isn’t my first rodeo.” Her voice held a mixture of resolve and regret.

Even in his drugged state, Frank understood her tone. She’d used tone when she pointed her .380 at him; the same night he held her for the first time. Frank had known she didn’t want to shoot him but she would if he threatened her. He’d trusted her instincts then. He HAD to trust her now.

“O-Ok,” he murmured.

“Ok.”

Frank used two hands to push them both upright. Then, with the little strength he had, he let go of Karen and turned around. He saw Red pin Todd down to the floor with his cane…and with a roar he lunged at the Daredevil knocking them both to the side of the stairs.

“Frank! What the hell!?” Red cried as Frank held him down with the little strength he had left. He almost laughed realizing it was the first time Red actually said his first name. “This is her war Red. This is her choice.”

Frank felt his heart hammering in his chest as he watched Karen reach for the gun on the floor. She stood up slowly, glaring at Todd with steel in her blue eyes. Just like the night he came to her apartment, Frank could sense Karen had made her decision.

_It’s ok Sweetheart. It’s ok._

He felt a wave of fear and anger run up his spine as a bruised Todd, still sitting in the spot where Red had floored him, let out a manic laugh. “What’s the matter Karen? Remembering all the good times we had?”

“I’m remembering you never took your last shot at the range until you felt you’d lined everything up perfectly,” Karen said. 

_Karen…Please._ Frank wanted to push her out of harm’s way, but he held onto Red who was struggling to break free. The devil was yelling at Frank with all his might: “LET GO! We have to help - ”

“Your silence means there’s only one bullet left!” Karen challenged. 

Frank could almost feel the venom in Todd’s voice. “You’re past _is_ going to catch up with you Karen.”

“NOW KAREN! NOW!” Frank yelled.

 _“_ I guess I’ll have to live with those odds Todd,” she whispered.

**BAAMM!**

The twisted smile on Todd’s face died as a deep red stain slowly began to blossom at the center of his chest. He fell to the ground.

Karen turned the gun’s safety on and released the magazine. The moment the magazine hit the floor, her face began to crumple in tears.

Frank released his hold on Red and stumbled towards Karen.

“Dear God…” Red whispered.

Frank ignored him as he wrapped Karen in his arms, feeling sad and angry and relieved. He knew better than anyone the toll of committing to your target. “Y-you are SO goddamn stubborn! If anything had happened to - You should – I would have handled this mess!” He wanted to be furious with her for refusing to take shelter in Curt’s truck; instead he chocked back tears. His heart was breaking as he listened to Karen crying quietly. “Shhhh. Shhh. I’m sorry sweetheart. It’s ok. You did what you had to do. You did what you had to do.” He pressed his forehead to hers. He knew Karen wasn’t a stranger to crossing the line between death and life, but this time she wouldn’t be left to cross it alone.

A somewhat eerie, somewhat reverent silence fell over the warehouse. Frank just stood there rocking Karen back and forth as she worked to control her breathing. He could hear Red shuffle uncomfortably behind them. “Uuhhh…guys…we’d better go before-”

Suddenly, a Brett Mahoney’s voice shattered the quiet. “NYPD!”

In that moment, Frank knew he had to make a choice. Mahoney was about to walk through the garage door and confiscate everything that defined him as the Punisher. He only had a minute to decide if he fled and went back into hiding…or stayed there with Karen.

* * *

The sound of police sirens rang outside the warehouse. Matt knew he should leave before Brett made an appearance, but he stood frozen in horror and indecision.

Part of him, the part that was angry and hurt that Karen chose Frank Castle, argued that he should leave them to answer for their actions. What was done in self-defense would be brought to light. He had done enough. The other part of Matt, the small part that still believed there was good in others, felt like crying as he heard Frank whisper tenderly to Karen. His friend was in trouble. He couldn’t abandon his friend.

As he stood there trying to make a decision, Matt felt Frank’s gaze like fire on his skin. “Red…there’s a stack of papers and a picture on my nightstand. Take them and get out of here.” Frank’s voice was barely a ragged, hoarse whisper. Matt could sense the man’s body was drained; the sharp iron scent in the air meant he must be bleeding pretty badly.

Matt heard himself protesting. “But Frank…they’re going to arrest you. And Karen needs…”

“Please Matthew.” It was the first time Frank Castle had ever called Matt by his first name.

“CASTLE! PAGE!” Brett was entering the main part of the warehouse. His yells were followed by an equally shrill “FRANK!?” from David Lieberman.

“Please Matt.” This time it was Karen who asked.

Realizing he had little time, Matt vaulted up the stairs. Using his cane as a guide, Matt made his way across the loft. He brushed his hand over the bed until his fingers found the solid wood of Frank’s nightstand. He glided his hand over the stand and felt soft, slick material…a photograph for sure…and maybe newspaper. Matt grabbed the stack of papers and pressed it against his chest. It beat up and down in time with his heart, which had been pounding rapidly as he listened to Brett Mahoney and the police enter the warehouse.

He could hear Brett’s breath hitch; he must be assessing the situation. “Holy. Shit.” Then…the ping of a walkie-talkie. “All units: How far away is the ambulance? We have three personnel that need to go to Metro General NOW.” Matt picked up on the change in Brett’s tone as he approached Frank and Karen. He sounded cautious as if he was approaching a wild animal. “I need to get you both to the hospital. I’m not arresting you…I won’t if you just agree to go with me.”

Matt leaned over the stair railing just enough to focus on Karen. He could sense her pulse racing as she listened to Brett. He wasn’t sure, but his senses were telling him Karen was still wrapped in Frank’s arms. “NO. Frank. They’re going to confiscate all of your stuff…this is where – where you keep what’s important to you. We need to get you out of here!”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. I’ve got the most important thing right here with me,” Frank was whispering. “It’s ok Mahoney. We’re coming with you.”

Matt’s felt helpless as he listened to the panic in Karen’s voice. “But I’m the one who shot Todd! I’m the one who should be taken into custody.”

Matt’s heard Brett whisper, “Tell the EMT to get some droperidol.” Then in a calm, commanding voice, “It’s ok Karen. No one’s in trouble right now. We’re getting you some medical attention.” He was followed by David’s voice saying, “We’ve got you. Just sit here for a second.” Karen and Frank were safe. It was time to go.

The last thing Matt heard before hoisting himself up and out of the broken bathroom window was Frank’s gentle whisper.

“I love you Karen.”

“I love you too.”

Matt swallowed the mixture of happiness and regret burning in his throat and proceeded to scale down the side of the warehouse. He paused for a moment…listened…then…Foggy’s heartbeat. His friend seemed to be hidden in a dense cluster of trees. After waiting a few moments to ensure the police and paramedics were distracted, Matt bolted towards the sound of his other best friend, maneuvering through the mud and grass towards Marci’s SUV.

“Oh thank god!” Foggy moaned as he opened the car door.

“What do you see? What’s happening?” Matt huffed as he tried to catch his breath.

It sounded as though Foggy had been crying. “Mahoney and David Lieberman entered the warehouse a few minutes ago. They haven’t come out yet. Two police cars and an ambulance just drove up. The EMTs are…SHIT…they…they’re carrying someone out in a body bag.”

“Todd Less,” Matt felt the weight of that name in his stomach. “He was torturing Frank and Karen. I distracted him for a moment and then Karen…She shot him.”

He felt Foggy’s pulse rise so fast he feared his friend would have a heart attack. “Frank didn’t-”

“Frank pushed me off Todd. He told me it was Karen’s choice,” Matt couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice. He took a deep breath. “Karen’s ok. Frank’s…comforting her. He didn’t run.”

“He’s _Frank_ to you now?” Foggy asked cautiously. “No more _Mr. Castle_ or _Punisher_?”

“He’s Frank to Karen…so he’s Frank to me.”

They were quiet for a moment.

Matt left out a deep breath. “We’ll wait for Brett to clear the warehouse. Then we can head to Metro General. We’re technically still Frank’s legal counsel, so no one will question us being there.”

“Ok…I’m nodding,” his friend said for emphasis.

“Only nodding?” Matt asked trying to lighten the mood.

“Ok, maybe I’m crying a little bit,” Foggy gulped. He paused and then asked “What are you holding?”

Matt realized he was still clutching whatever Frank had asked him to take from the loft. “He asked me to grab a stack of papers on his nightstand. Will you…?”

Foggy’s hands rustled through the bundle. “There’s a picture of his wife and kids…and a bunch of newspaper articles. All from the Bulletin. They’re…Karen’s.”

Matt felt the mixture of happiness and regret bubble up inside him again. He’d never really taken time to understand or appreciate Karen’s love for journalism. Never listened to any of her articles online or have her share them. “We have some time…would you read some of her articles to me Foggy?”

“Yeah…yeah I will.”

Karen’s writing poured over the two friends like the pounding rain as they waited for their opportunity to sneak to Metro General.

* * *

_  
Meanwhile…_

Dinah Madani shivered; the breeze blowing off the Hudson made the rain feel ice cold. She silently cursed herself for leaving her personal cell in her car a block from the pier. The phone wouldn’t be helpful right now, but it would make her feel better to pick it up and see a text from David saying Frank and Karen were alive. She took a slow breath in, willing herself to be patient. She was standing out in the rain for a reason: She was going to bring the last people involved in Operation Blacksmith to justice. 

“You think the Kingpin’s wife will show?” Agent Thompson whispered from his spot.

“She’ll be here. She’s the only reason this ship stayed in port.” Dinah prayed she was right. 

“Hey guys!” Officer Tommy Salazar from the NYPD hissed, “Get ready. Looks like we have a visitor.”

_Vanessa Marianna Fisk smiled as her car approached Pier 3. That pesky article Mitchell Ellison had written in the Bulletin has sped up their plans, but she’d been able to take care of business. Frank Castle had agreed to be on Wilson’s pay roll; Todd Less was hopefully dead by now; and Karen Page’s reputation and life would be ruined when her vigilante lover left her to take the blame for the shootings at Less Galleries. Vanessa wondered if Sergeant Cole would have the courage to kill Page once she and Castle parted ways over Todd Less’s death. Cole wasn’t ruthless like Russo or Less, but he’d been backed into a corner so hopefully he’d finish the job. With that thought in her mind, Vanessa checked her phone. No updates from the good sergeant. It was odd he hadn’t called yet. He was typically good about communicating, and Vanessa had given him explicit instructions to call once Castle had satisfied his blood lust at her apartment._

_For a brief moment, Vanessa remembered a young Todd Neiman – soon to be Todd Less – sitting on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art with a sketch of his high school sweetheart. She felt a wave of guilt wash over her, but shook her head free of the memory. Todd had crossed Wilson one too many times. He’d been reckless in trying to kill Page, and became too much of a liability. She’d been the one to argue that fact. It made sense her husband wanted the last viable member of Operation Blacksmith out of the way._

_Looking up at the merchant vessel, Vanessa reminded herself that none of that mattered anymore. The ship that had once brought Todd’s art shipments – among other items – would soon be ferrying her across the Atlantic with the money Wilson had stolen through Mario’s Pizza. Once she was safely in Europe, she’d wait for Wilson to join her. Wilson hadn’t given her explicit details on how he planned to escape Riker’s Detention Center, but Vanessa trusted her husband had already set his plan in motion. Vanessa was so absorbed with her thoughts she didn’t notice the three figures standing under the gangway of the ship._

Dinah Madani let that witch set one emerald green slipper on the first ladder rung before stepping out of the shadows with her gun pointed at Vanessa’s back. 

“Vanessa Marianna Fisk. You’re under arrest.”

The Kingpin’s wife froze for a brief second before turning around. The look of defeat on her face was apparent as she locked eyes with Dinah. “On what charges?”

“Money laundering, narcotics sales, murder, and attempted murder just to name a few of the charges,” Dinah said.

Vanessa glowered at her. “You don’t have any proof. Just some stupid newspaper article that’s full of conspiracy theories!”

Dinah gave a triumphant smile. “Both Homeland Security and NYPD have much more than that.”

“HENRY!” Vanessa shrieked to her body guard. 

Dinah kept her sights on Vanessa even as she heard the car door open. She watched the woman’s face twist in shock.

Out of the corner of her eye, Dinah watched the tall, burly man known as Henry calmly walk up to the gangway and shake hands with Officer Salazar. He pulled out a badge from his pocket and flashed it at the Kingpin’s wife. “NYPD. Same as good old Tommy over here who set up your Sunday visits with your husband. It took our agencies a while to coordinate, but we figured things out. Those newspaper articles Karen Page and Mitchell Ellison have been writing about Mr. Less’s affairs were a huge help.”

Vanessa blinked rapidly; she was at a loss for words. Dinah felt a rush of pleasure as Officer Salazar said, “Not everyone can be bought off by the Kingpin.”

Once Vanessa Marianna Fisk was in the back of a police car, Dinah left Agent Thompson with the NYPD to start making necessary reports. She jogged back to her car, praying her phone would deliver good news.

Pressing on the home screen, Dinah felt her stomach drop. There was a missed call NOT from David but from Curtis Hoyle. 

_“Dinah it’s Curtis…Have you? Do you know? Shit.”_ Dinah listened to Curtis’s distraught voice. _“Sorry. I’m just trying not to freak out right now. Channel 5 News is saying NYPD raided some secret warehouse belonging to the Punisher. They’re saying – They’re saying that Karen Page was found being tortured by Todd Less and that Frank…that Frank Castle died in some shootout. I-I-Please, PLEASE, please tell me you know something different.”_

Dinah felt like she was spinning as she listened to the message. Suddenly, her phone buzzed. It was David.

_“We need you at Metro General. NOW.”_


	25. An End or A Beginning?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Punisher’s death may mean a new life for both Frank and Karen.

_Karen felt a rush of anticipation as she walked up the stairs of Penny’s Place. The outside wood gleamed with a fresh coat of blue paint and light poured through the windows; the diner looked just as she remembered it from her childhood. Karen pushed her way through the throng of people on the porch who were waiting for a table. She didn’t want to be rude, but she was in a hurry…though she wasn’t quite sure why. There was something…no someone she needed to get back to…but she wanted to see HIM first._

_“KEVIN?!” she yelled, craning her neck to peer around the crowd huddled on stools in front of the counter._

_“Hey sis!” her brother’s boyish smile shone brightly as he leaned across the counter. He pushed a plate of pancakes off the side as Karen came up to the counter. He raised an eyebrow at her. “I thought I told you to take the afternoon off and work on that Georgetown application. You didn’t need to check up on me. I’m running this place like a well-oiled machine!”_

_Karen gave an amused huff. “Of course you’ve got it under control.” She paused, an odd achy feeling welling up in her chest, “But I…I missed you.”_

_Kevin’s smile grew even bigger. “Aww. You act like we’ve been apart forever. I’m fine here.” He paused, “Oh, by the way, someone dropped this off for you.” He passed Karen a slip of paper._

_Karen felt the weight of it in her hands…it felt oddly cool like mettle…like her .380. Her hands shook as she read the words on the paper:_ Ms. Page, everyone must be held accountable for their actions. Your past is coming for you. WF.

_Karen felt disoriented for a moment. Why were those words still important? She couldn’t tell if she felt happy or sad or lost…then she heard her brother’s voice._

_“Karen. Hey sis…It’s going to be ok.” Karen looked up. Kevin was holding a small bouquet of white roses out towards her. “See, Frank said it was going to be ok. You did what you had to do.”_

_As Karen took the roses out of Kevin’s hands, she noticed everything go quiet. It was hard to tell if she was in the diner anymore, and Kevin…he looked so far away now._

_“Kevin! Wait!” She called out._

_Her brother shook his head and flashed that boyish smile. “We’ll talk later. I’m fine here. Ok? Just know that I love you.”_

_She opened her mouth to say I love you back…but…_

Karen woke with a start. It took her a minute to realize she was lying in a hospital bed with her right arm connected to a monitor. Where was she? How did she end up here?

“Hey kid. Glad you’re finally awake,” came a soft voice. Karen turned her head to see Ellison sitting in the chair beside her. 

“Ellison? Wha-what are you doing here? Where are we?”

He reached out and squeezed her hand; only then did Karen see the tears in his eyes. “Metro General. Wanted to be here when you woke up. You had me scared for a while. You’ve been out for almost 24 hours thanks to whatever the EMT’s gave you and a minor concussion.”

The memories came flooding back as Ellison spoke: Todd holding her head underwater, Matt falling from the sky, the look on Todd’s face before she shot him, and Frank…how he’d cried out in agony as he took the bullet meant for her. Frank. Where was Frank?

It was only then that Karen noticed the TV above her hospital bed. An image of Frank’s warehouse surrounded by police cars flashed across the screen. It was followed by one of Curtis Hoyle and a cluster of men and women – some wearing red USMC sweatshirts – standing in front of the church Curt used for the veterans’ support group. _“Reporting live from Channel 5 News. New York is divided as some mourn the loss of the vigilante known as the Punisher. Frank Castle is said to have given his life while trying to bring the perpetrators of last Friday’s shootings to justice. Some members of the community are painting him as a- ”_

Karen felt her heart stop momentarily. “SHIT!” Ellison cried grabbing the remote. “I told the nurse to turn that crap off!”

Karen felt her face flush; she must have looked ready to panic because Ellison pulled her into a hug. “Frank’s not dead. He’s NOT DEAD. That’s just what Detective Mahoney and Agent Madani are telling the public.”

Her dream of Kevin holding white roses… how he said Frank’s name…Karen had to get out of this hospital bed. NOW. “What are you saying? Where’s Frank?!?” She realized she was shouting and took a breath to calm down.

Ellison opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by talking - rather arguing– in the hallway. Karen felt her heart leap as a voice full of the gravel and honey filled her ears.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

“SIT. DOWN. You cannot walk on your own yet. You’ve had severe trauma to your abdomen. We’re going to see her right now. Frraaa-Sit! I don’t want to see your rear end. Damnit!”

The door burst open, and standing there – very much alive and looking too handsome for someone with multiple bruises who was also sporting a hospital gown – was Frank.

Karen barely registered Ellison’s yelp of protest as she rose from the bed and crossed the room. All that mattered was the feeling of Frank – the warmth of his body, the pounding of his heart, the callous on his trigger finger – as she embraced him. He crushed Karen to his chest as though he would never let go.

They stood there for a moment, quietly rocking back and forth, until Ellison cleared his throat. “I’ll let you two have a moment alone before god and country rush in to talk to Karen. A lot of people are glad you’re both up.”

Karen lifted her head off of Frank’s chest and nodded absently at Ellison, still unsure of what exactly was going on. Frank refused to let Karen go, but he ducked his head sheepishly as her part-time boss walked up to them. Karen almost laughed at stern look on the reporter’s face. 

“I’m sure Frank will give you the details…just be prepared to write an article on the man you knew to be Todd Less. That’s after you’ve taken a week – ONE WHOLE WEEK - off. Frank and your lawyer pals are going to make sure that actually happens. If you have any questions about what you’re going to write, we can talk about it when you two” – he pointed a finger at them both – “come over for dinner Saturday night.”

Karen felt a shock run through her. Did Ellison not realize she’d shot a man? She was lucky Brett hadn’t already hauled her off to jail.

If Ellison saw her look of confusion, he ignored it. His gaze shifted to Frank, who immediately dropped his hands from her waist. The two men considered each other for a moment, and Karen wondered if this is what it would have been like to bring a potential boyfriend home to a father who actually cared. Ellison’s next words were directed at Frank.

“Saturday night. 7pm sharp. If you’re wondering what to bring, I drink bourbon and my wife swoons over lilies.” He gestured towards Karen, but kept his gaze on Frank. “ _She_ seems to enjoy white roses. If you’re a smart man, you will **always** remember that fact.”

Frank gave a short nod. “Yes Sir,” he said.

“Good. See you Saturday.” Ellison gave a stern half-smile and moved past someone in the doorway.

Karen felt Frank exhale a long breath as he pulled her back towards him. She felt their hearts beating in time as he pressed little kisses to her temple whispering, “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Frank’s words produce an icy knot of dread in Karen’s stomach. She briefly wondered if all of this – the news, Ellison’s concern, Frank’s frenzied whispers – meant he was leaving. Perhaps he was heading off to fight another war, and Ellison’s speech was meant to threaten him. She looked up at Frank and cringed, her voice betraying her worry. “Wh-Why? Why are you sorry?”

The tinder, timid look Frank gave her tears through the knot in her stomach and replaces it with a different feeling altogether: Hope.

“I almost lost – I almost lost myself again,” he whispered. “Vanessa cornered me when you were inside Ellison’s apartment. She goaded me. Told me Todd Less was the last person involved in killing Maria and my babies.” He blinked back an angry tear before continuing. “I knew she was lying, but part of me… **that monster** …for a moment I wanted to end him. I lied to myself; told myself I was following her to protect you, but…the monster was there.”

Karen nodded, gently rubbing small circles in Frank’s arms with her thumb. It scared her to hear how close Frank had been to his demons; mostly because she knew the same anger lied within herself. Yet… hearing Frank continue, Karen felt that flicker of hope… for them both.

“When I got to Vanessa’s apartment; I realized I **couldn’t** go through with it. I couldn’t let my bullshit drag me around by the throat anymore. I thought I could force Todd to leave, but…if I’d known what he was planning…if I’d realized sooner he was using the Fisks instead of the other way around…I never would have followed that witch. I’m so sorry.”

Karen pressed both hands to Frank’s cheeks. “You had no way of knowing what Todd had planned. You did what you had to do…so did I.”

Frank nodded grimly, and she could almost see Todd’s lifeless body in front of her.

Karen pressed her forehead to his before continuing. She had on more question for him, but she was terrified to ask it. “How is it you’re standing here with me when the news is saying you died from a gunshot wound?”

“I can answer that question!” came a cheerful voice from the doorway. Karen and Frank both turned to see David Lieberman standing in the doorway with an empty wheelchair.

“Christ,” Frank muttered. “Have you been standing there the whole damn time?” He winced as he spoke, and Karen realized the death grip she had around his torso must be killing his ribs. “Frank, you should sit,” she pleaded.

“Told you!” David smirked as he pushed the chair forward.

“Fuck you,” Frank snapped even as a smile played across his lips.

David rolled his eyes as Frank sat down in the wheelchair. “First time you’ve thrown the f-bomb at me all day. You must be feeling better.”

Karen placed a hand on Frank’s shoulder before he could retort.

David smiled. “As I was about to explain: The files you found at Less Galleries, along with the information Dinah’s been collecting, was enough to incriminate Todd Less and Vanessa Marianna Fisk for the shootings on Friday.”

Karen nodded. That Friday night seemed like a thousand years ago.

“The fact you’re both walking about this hospital without handcuffs has to do with a certain video.”

Karen stiffened. _Please let it not be the video confession about James Wesley. Please let Todd’s threats be lies._

“Well two videos to be exact. One is from the security camera at Vanessa’s penthouse. It showcased Todd Less drugging Frank. The other is from the warehouse, and gives a spectacular view of Todd laying out his plans to murder you both. As far as NYPD is concerned, you acted in self-defense Karen.”

Karen looked at Frank in surprise. “You had a camera inside the warehouse?”

“I put it on the bookshelf before I left Sunday night,” David stated matter-of-factly. “Frank and I thought it would be a good idea to have some surveillance up in case Fisk or Less had followed Foggy’s monster truck through the woods. Don’t worry, the camera was facing the kitchen not the stair-”

“David!” Frank cut him off so quickly that it made Karen wonder what details he’d shared about their time in hiding. “Could you give us a moment? Please.”

Even Frank’s exasperated tone couldn’t wipe the smirk off David’s face. “Not a problem…PARTNER,” had said with emphasis. “I’d better go see if Dinah’s been able to follow up with Curtis. FYI, Mr. Hoyle should get an award for all the shit he’s done for you in the last 96 hours: Mourn your death; find out you’re actually alive; lie to the public about it; stich up your girlfriend; give you some cond-”

“Please go!” Frank groaned. “Find Dinah. Call your wife. Just give us two seconds to talk in private.” Frank’s face looked as red as Karen’s felt.

They watched David retreat out of the room. He’d propped open the door just enough for Karen to see Dinah Madani standing in the hallway gesturing with her hands as she talked on her cell phone. Karen caught her gaze for a moment. She was rewarded with a warm smile before David blocked her view.

Looking back down at Frank, Karen found him studying her face with a bashfulness similar to the look he’d given her the first time they were in a hospital together. “I may have been a little high on painkillers when I got out of surgery…and told David a bit about us,” his voice trailed off sheepishly.

Karen gripped both of Frank’s hands and took a deep breath. “I need a little help understanding how there’s an “us” when you’re supposed to be dead.” She had to stare at his hands out of fear that her eyes would tear up at his answer.

Frank squeezed her hands, but didn’t force her to meet his gaze. “Dinah and Mahoney made that call. Frank Castle is dead to throw off anyone Wilson Fisk may send to tie up loose ends from Operation Blacksmith. What Fisk doesn’t know is that Pete Castiglione is very much alive. Pete has a special skill set from his days in the Marine Corps that makes him of interest to the Department of Homeland Security and New York’s Police Department. Pete’s lucky enough to have been hired as a private defense contractor to advise both agencies on target acquisition and search and seizure tactics.”

A lightbulb went off in Karen’s head. “So Pete’s leaving construction to be a private defense consultant…kind of like David,” she murmured still looking down.

Frank nodded. “Yeah. Pete’s able to make his own hours to a certain extent. He can even do a little construction on the side – unless Homeland Security calls him to suit up for a mission. Dinah and Brett insisted that’s the only way I walk out of this hospital with you.”

Karen felt the knot in her stomach start to loosen as another wave of hope washed over her. It almost felt too good to be true. “Why do you want to walk out of the hospital with me this time?” 

Frank was quiet for a moment. He simply traced circles along Karen’s hands with his thumbs. When he spoke, Karen felt the weight of every word.

“Karen…the last time we were in this hospital…I was lying when I said I didn’t want an after with you.” He paused, took a slow breath. “The truth is that I can’t give you a life with a white picket fence and baby and a dog. I can’t give you the life you deserve. I’m always going to fight the war in some way.”

Karen felt the knot clench her stomach again. She stepped away from the wheelchair in a flush of anger. “I NEVER asked for a white picket fence Frank! I don’t even WANT any of that. There’s a part of me that needs to fight this war too! I just don’t want to… to do it **alone** anymore!” Saying those words out loud felt oddly freeing. 

They were both quiet for a moment as the fire in her voice died down. When Karen finally met Frank’s gaze, she was surprised to find him looking at her with a mixture of pride and amusement. Almost like that long ago night in the diner when she told him she almost took her shot. “C’mere and let me finish,” Frank said in a calm voice. Karen slowly took his outstretched hands. 

“So we’re both stubborn enough to keep fighting the war. Ok. Fine. I’ll help when Dinah and Brett need me too. I’ll bite my tongue and let you prosecute the scum of Hell’s Kitchen with your lawyer buddies. But honestly, I just want…I want to be a guy working on his ‘after’ with his girl. I want that girl to be you.”

Karen felt a wave of happiness so fierce she thought her heart might crack. “You want to be with me even though you know who I really am?” she whispered. The faces of James Wesley and Todd Less passed through her mind’s eye. 

“You knew exactly who I was and that never scared you away.”

Karen finally let herself smile. Finally let herself feel a sense of joy that she and Frank were taking a shot at their after. That they were beginning something. “Ok…maybe we can start our ‘after’ with that drink we talked about.”

The corners of Frank’s eyes crinkled slightly. “Ok. We’ll go once Mahoney and Dinah are done with all their questioning.”

“How did Brett agree to this Pete-the-private-contractor deal?”

Frank inclined his head towards the open door. “Let’s just say I have some pretty good lawyers.”

Karen looked up to see Matt and Foggy step into the room. In an instant Karen was gathered in a group hug. Foggy had buried his head in her shoulder. Matt gently pressed his cheek to hers. “I’m sorry Karen,” he whispered. “Me too,” she said.

“I don’t want to break up the party, but I have some questions for Karen now that she’s awake.”

Karen broke free from the hug to see Brett leaning on the doorframe. He smiled, genuinely happy to see her, but there was a sadness in his eyes. Scanning the hallway behind Brett, Karen realized the young sergeant who’d been shadowing him was nowhere in sight.

“Ok,” Karen said.

“I’ll stick around since I’m technically Karen’s lawyer,” Foggy piped up. “That way I can make sure she understands her part in Mr. Castiglione’s legal proceedings.”

Brett rolled his eyes . “I’m sure she’s not going to have an issue with the terms we came up with, but ok. You can stay.”

Karen looked down at Frank who gave her a reassuring smile. It was the first time she’d seen him smile when others were around. “You two go ahead and talk with Detective Mahoney.” He paused, glancing over at Matt who gave a firm nod. “I’ll step out…I need to talk to the other half of my legal counsel.”

Karen watched with curiosity as the two vigilantes made their way out of the room in silence. They seemed to share a grim camaraderie. It was the beginning of... _something_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to end the story here...but a little epilogue came to mind ;) If you’ve been reading...hang on for one more chapter!


	26. An After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens after...or at least the beginning of what happens after ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In writing this chapter, I realize some of my timeline of when the pandemic shutdown New York is a little off, so bare with me! Enjoy some of the domestic fluff I believe these characters deserve, and I hope you like the little plugs for a few spin offs and sequel that are fluttering around in my mind.

_Three Days Later..._

Frank squinted as the sunlight danced across the East River and sent flashes of light across his field of vision. From his seat on the Q100 bus, trudging along the Riker’s Island Bridge, Frank could see the city surrounded by its various rivers. He’d always thought New York City looked beautiful from the water and for a moment the view brought back the familiar sadness. He thought of the times he and Maria took the kids on ferry rides along the harbor. Frankie would run from the bow to stern in a frenzy while Lisa stayed glued to the railing looking for mermaids. Maria would just laugh as Frank ushered the kids back to their seats. God he missed them. He’d _always_ miss them...yet that feeling of sadness was joined by a feeling of anticipation. Karen told him she’d never been on a ferry ride around the harbor. Frank figured he could take her on one. It wouldn’t be the same as before…but it could be just as special.

Feeling the bus begin to slow as it made its way over the arch of the bridge, Frank took a deep breath. He would take Karen on a ferry ride, but he had to make it through today first. Make it through ten minutes of being in Rikers Correctional Facility without getting blood on his hands. Frank was actually grateful Red would be doing the talking – even if it became a sermon – because it would prevent him from slipping up. Neither Dinah nor Brett knew that _Pete Castiglione and his lawyer_ (well one of his lawyers) had an appointment at Rikers. They wouldn’t be too happy if they found out, which meant Frank HAD to stay calm.

He felt somewhat guilty about not offering to pick Red up and drive to the island, but only _slightly_ guilty. Red hadn’t asked for the assistance, so Frank hadn’t offered. He respected that Red – he couldn’t think of him quite as _Matt_ and _Murdock_ was a curse in his vocabulary – operated with autonomy. He understood that _autonomy_ meant _self-preservation_ even if the altar boy denied that fact. Besides, making the trip alone meant Frank had plenty of time to think about last night…and Karen.

He must have looked like a teenager going to pick up his prom date as he approached Karen’s apartment. He felt giddy, nervous, and slightly awkward walking up the stairs to holding a bouquet of white roses. He’d worried he was dressed too casually in jeans and a grey sweater, but the few dress shirts he owned had all turned to ash years ago when he burnt down his house. Thankfully, Frank’s concern about his clothes were quickly forgotten when the door opened.

Karen appeared with a soft hopeful smile, her ocean eyes shining. She wearing a simple black dress, but the sweetheart neckline and tiny slit revealing her right thigh made the outfit anything but prudish. When Frank’s eyes rested on the black heels she was wearing, he’d become immediately, achingly aware that they hadn’t been able to see each other in two days thanks to his drawn out indoctrination into Madani’s department and the pressure Karen was under to finish her piece on Todd Less (the pressure was _self-inflicted_ but that was oh-so _Karen_ ). Luckily, Frank had been able to pull himself out of his dumbfounded state and in a few minutes he found himself holding a glass of whiskey and Karen’s hand as they lingered around her tiny kitchen island debating which place in Hell’s Kitchen served the best pizza. ( _Mario’s Pizza was **not** on the list_.) Frank couldn’t help but grin as he remembered the way Karen blushed and bit her lower lip ( _fuck that would be his undoing_ ) as he stole sideways glances at her. It would be the closest thing to a first date they would have in their life together minus their coffee outing. Looking back Frank wished he could slow time and savor every gesture, every laugh, everything Karen did that evening. He never wanted to take those sweet moments for granted.

The sign for Rikers Visitor’s Center brought Frank out of his daydream. He stepped off the bus and scanned the area. Standing to the left of the entrance…was Red. Frank saw the lawyer flash a cautious half-smile as he approached. Even though sunglasses covered his eyes, Red couldn’t completely cover up the purplish bruise on his left cheek; his souvenir from battling Todd Less. Frank knew he didn’t look much better. He just hoped the five-o’clock shadow he was sporting hid some of the evidence. 

“Mr. Castiglione,” Red nodded as Frank walked up to him. “Mr. Murdock,” Frank murmured, “You been waiting long?”

The lawyer shook his head. “No, only a few minutes. I figured you may be running late since you were at Karen’s.”

Frank wondered – for what he knew would not be the last time – how Red’s superpowers worked. Could that devil smell the perfume Karen had been wearing last night? “Karen tell you we were going to have dinner?”

He could have sworn Red gave him a conspiratorial smirk. “I surmised as much. You two have a good time?”

Frank thought back to how they’d thrown the idea of going out to eat by the wayside. How he’d ended up backing Karen against her kitchen island in nothing but those sinful heels. How the old lady in the apartment directly below banged on the ceiling with her broom and scolded them to be quiet. How afterwards they’d laid in bed laughing so hard they almost didn’t hear the delivery guy banging on the door. They didn’t eat that Thai food until much, _much_ later in the evening. 

“Yeah,” he smirked despite himself, “We had a good time.”

Red was quiet for a moment, as if he was contemplating his next words carefully. “I’m glad you two had a good time. Really. Just…promise me you won’t involve Karen in any more of your vendettas.”

Frank felt the familiar burning irritation flare up as the lawyer spoke. “Seems a bit hypocritical of you to make that request since YOU employ HER to be a private investigator for your firm.” The words came out in a hiss as Frank willed himself not to yell in public. “And if you’re insinuating that what happened at the warehouse was part of some vendetta I have, you are wrong. Karen made a choice.”

Red took a step back and gripped his cane. “Foggy and I do our best to steer Karen away from tough cases. We’re expecting YOU to do the same.”

Frank snorted. “Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better, but you know goddamn well that NO ONE tells Karen Page what to do. Not me. Not you. Not even her reporter boss.”

Red pursed his lips together, and Frank couldn’t help but feel a little smug that he’d gotten under the preacher’s skin. “We will just have to agree to disagree on this matter for now… _Mr. Castiglione_.” The devil’s voice was one of annoyed resignation.

Frank rolled his eyes. “Sure thing _Murdock_. Whatever will help you sleep at night. Now are you going to lecture me all day, or can we finish the job we came here to do?”

Red sighed and turned towards the visitor entrance. “Shall we?”

After what felt like a century later, Frank made it through the security. He listened with amusement as Red gave the front desk some elaborate explanation about coming to Rikers for a professional visit. A few minutes and a dozen raised eyebrows later, staff ushered Frank and his lawyer towards a broad shouldered guard. The gentleman was not pleased that a particular inmate had visitors, and remained silent as he led the guests down a long, dark, narrow hallway.

Walking along the dungeon-like corridor, Frank felt the tension crackling through the air. It reminded him of the keyed up, hyper-alert feeling that would course through his body right before his platoon headed out for a firefight. Made sense today felt the same. After all, he and Red were about to start another war. Not intentionally of course. Hell, if you asked Red, Catholic guilt would have that guy swearing up and down they were at Rikers Correctional Facility to prevent bloodshed. Frank knew better.

The guard led them to an imposing, thick metal door, punched in a code, and begrudgingly gestured for Frank…er…Pete…and his lawyer to walk into the next room. Frank took a step forward and guided Red through the doorway. The devil didn’t protest which Frank was guessing meant that Red’s senses were honing in on the one waiting for them. Frank scanned the room taking in the rows of seats on either side of a long table. The rows were divided by thick Plexiglas and between each individual seat was the tiniest of slits at the bottom left corner of the glass to allow inmates to speak and be heard by their visitors. The seats were all empty save one at the very end. There…abandoned by the guards that usually loitered in his inner circle, chained by his arms and legs, glaring at his visitor…was Wilson Fisk.

Frank had hoped to see desperation in the man’s eyes. Hoped to find the Kingpin bemoaning the loss of the entourage and special privileges that had surrounded him in prison. Instead, he saw a slow, seething, burning anger in Fisk’s eyes. It made Frank’s stomach drop a bit because it confirmed what he already knew: He and Red were about to start a war.

Frank guided the devil to the seat across from Fisk. Red sat down with relaxed ease, as though this was a typical work day for him. Fisk raised his eyebrow at the lawyer and then turned his gaze upward. Frank didn’t make eye contact; he just took on a thousand-yard stare and waited as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and the Kingpin of Crime regarded one another.

“Wilson,” Red said in a cool voice.

“Matthew Murdock,” Fisk said in an equally frigid manner. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Frank watched Red’s face take on a stoic, unreadable quality. It was almost as if the devil was putting a mask on.

“Seems like you’re getting along alright. I was wondering if you’d be lonely since Vanessa is at the women’s penitentiary upstate. You must miss having regular visitors.”

Bullseye. Red had struck the Kingpin where it hurt. Frank could tell by the way Fisk’s jaw tightened.

“Again: To _what_ do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Red leaned forward a bit.

“Wilson, we’re not here to visit you. We’re here to send you a message: **You. Lost**.”

Fisk’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. Frank felt his trigger finger twitch in anticipation; he wouldn’t put it past the man to try and punch his head through the Plexiglas in an attempt to pummel Red.

“I lost? Why do you say that Mr. Murdock?”

Red held his stance: Leaning forward, hands clenched into fists on his lap, face pointed directly at Fisk. Frank could see the deep-seeded hatred coiled in Red’s body as he glowered at Kingpin. He finally understood what Karen meant when she’d sat across from him at that diner and described Matthew Murdock. _“He hurts people. Not like you but…he breaks them.”_

“Because Wilson, you were put in this prison by the law. You’ve tried every means to go around the law and continue being the Kingpin, but none of it has worked. Your money, your hired thugs, your wife: You’ve played all of those little pieces in your game of chess to control Hell’s Kitchen…and you still lost.

 _Damn_. Listening to the lawyer speak, Frank had to admit that Red could have been one hell of a Marine. He was passionate and foolhardy enough.

Fisk took in a deep breath that sounded like a hiss. “So you believe I’ve lost and you’re coming to rub it in my face?” He gestured towards Frank with a flippancy that made boiled Frank’s blood. “I’m surprised you thought you needed a body guard to glower at me. Especially one who is supposed to be **dead**.”

The calm expression never left Red’s face. “We’re not here to rub it in your face Wilson. We’re here with a warning: Continue to play puppet master from behind bars, but know that we will fight you in court. We will fight you in uniform. We will fight you in Hell’s Kitchen. You will not win.”

 _“We will fight you.”_ Hearing the zealous ring in Red’s voice, Frank was taken back to that long ago night when he chained the Daredevil to a chimney. Red had preached at him with the same fervor even as he struggled to break free of those chains. He was like a new recruit: Passionate to a fault. Frank cringed inwardly as he remembered taping a gun to the devil’s hand in order to goad him into crossing the line, into killing. As much as Red infuriated him, Frank knew the man was good. He would never force Red to cross the line again. If it came down to it…he’d cross the line in Red’s place. 

Fisk must have picked up on Red’s choice of words and he wasn’t impressed. He looked from Red to Frank with skepticism. “And answer me this Mr. Murdock…Do you _really_ think this little truce between you two will last?”

“Yes,” Red answered without hesitation. “Frank and I are on the same side: Against you.”

Fisk was quiet for a moment…then his face twisted into a delighted smile. “Well then, I look forward to the fight.”

Red’s blindness was a blessing because only Frank had to stomach the arrogant look Fisk gave them.

“Thank you for your visit Mr. Murdock.”

Red stood up without another word and walked towards the door. “Frank could you…” He waved in the direction of the call button.

Frank pulled his gaze away from Wilson Fisk and walked over to Red’s side to press the button. A minute later the guard’s voice came over the intercom. “All done?”

“Yes we’re finished here,” Red said. He stepped through the door as it buzzed open…meanwhile Frank turned back towards the long row of seats. He felt his adrenaline spike as he locked eyes with Wilson Fisk. The Kingpin was studying him with curiosity.

“May I _help_ you Mr. Castle?”

Frank didn’t bulk at the aggressive snarl in Fisk’s words. “I told you that the next time we saw each other only one of us would walk away,” he growled.

“Yes, I remember that threat quite well. You had the indecency to strike me after I allowed you to kill that savage drug runner who was involved in your family’s murders.”

Frank clenched his fists, trying to ignore the fact Fisk was insinuating he owned him some kind of debt. 

Both men were silent for a moment.

“May I ask WHY you haven’t made good on that promise?” The Kingpin smiled expectantly.

Frank did not smile back. He tried to control the twitching of his trigger finger. “The ONLY reason you are still breathing, you lousy piece of shit, is because you’ve been ordering you goons to do your dirty work. I’ll play nice and follow Murdock’s rules to handle them…BUT the minute you use your own hand against Karen Page, I will kill you.”

Fisk arched his eyebrow as an expression of both menace and delight continued to sweep across his features. “What exactly is the _nature_ of your relationship with Miss Page? The news says you brainwashed her…but I’m curious to hear your side of the story.”

“None of your goddamn business,” Frank snapped. “Just know that if you threaten Karen Page in ANY way…I will bury you six feet under.”

Fisk regarded Frank for a moment and it was as if a lightbulb was going off in the man’s head. “I told you once before that I play the long game Mr. Castle. Remember that before you grow too accustomed to playing by Matthew Murdock’s rules. If you think you can keep me away from Karen Page…then you and I **WILL** be seeing each other again.”

“I’ll be ready,” Frank said. He turned to push the call button ignoring Fisk’s taunts.

“Karen Page is a murder Mr. Castle. I’ve been doing my research, and I can tell you that she’s done **more** than she lets on. Wearing a press badge and making doe eyes at you doesn’t change who she really is at heart. Just like waltzing in here with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen doesn’t change the fact that you two despise each other. You understand that don’t you?”

Frank didn’t answer. 

Stepping back out into the hallway, he made his way towards Red. The two men were silent as they made their way out of Rikers. It was a heavy silence…but not an adversarial kind. Walking with Red, Frank felt the grim camaraderie he’d felt during those long ago firefights in the Hindu Kush and for a moment he forgot Red was a civilian. Fisk was wrong… _He had to be wrong._

Red finally broke the silence when they arrived at the bus stop. “You didn’t need to do that Frank. To talk to Fisk.” The devil’s voice was quiet and contemplative. “He…he still has enough power to make it difficult for you to keep your new identity.”

Frank turned and really looked at the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Red’s body was still taut with the tension he’d seen come over him in Fisk’s presence. Frank knew what he’d say next wouldn’t ease the tension.

“Yeah, I did need to talk to Fisk. He needs to understand what will happen if he tries to go after Karen again.” He paused, not wanting to get too emotional in front of Red. “She’s the only family I have left.”

Red looked at Frank for a moment, and he could almost feel the devil listening to his heart beat.

“You love her,” Red stated.

“Yes.”

It was the easiest question Frank had ever answered.

* * *

_Six Months Later…._

Karen flashed a smile at the apartment security guard as she dashed past him only to remember she was wearing a face mask. 

“Hi Jesse!” she panted. It was still _so weird_ to live in an apartment with actual staff manning the front desk. She could hear Frank’s voice in her head muttering _“Some security. Guy never checks id’s because he’s too busy making moon eyes at you.”_

“Hey Karen! I thought I saw you leave for work two hours ago. You forget something?”

“No!” she called over her shoulder. “I just had to drop off some files at my office before we head out.”

Jesse nodded. “Oh – that’s right! I’ll keep an eye out for your mail while you two are -”

His voice was cut off as Karen bolted up the stairwell. She was proud of herself for being able to jog back from NMP in less than twenty minutes. She couldn’t let the well-meaning front desk slow her down now. She was almost late.

Skipping up the last two steps, Karen made her way to the fourth floor and rounded the corner. The giddy feeling in her stomach intensified as she neared 419; the smell of bacon was wafting down the hallway urging her forward. Hearing the deep chuckle on the other side of the door, Karen didn’t even bother knocking.

“11:29! I made it!!!” she cried victoriously as she barged into the living room flinging the surgical mask to the floor in a theatrical gesture. She’d run so fast that her heart was pounding in her ears, and it took a moment for the room to come into focus. The first thing she noticed was Curtis sitting on the plush window bench. He’d placed a large hardback book on the window sill by the pot of white roses and was clapping.

“Congratulations Miss Page,” he flashed a smile. “Frankie kept telling me you were going to miss this lovely little brunch, but he was wrong.”

Karen blushed a bit and turned towards the kitchen. Standing behind the island, with a dish towel flung over his shoulder, was Frank. His eyes crinkled softly as Karen smiled at him.

“You made it with one minute to spare, but…I admit defeat,” he grumbled giving her a smirk. “I thought for sure Nelson would talk your ear off for another two hours and I’d have to load the truck on my own. Guess this means that you can enjoy the food while it’s hot.”

Karen gave him a playful slap on the arm as she walked past him to put her laptop bag in the bedroom. “It means that I won our bet.”

She felt Frank’s eyes follow her into the bedroom, felt the deep rumble of his laugh vibrating in her own sternum. “Oh don’t worry. I have a special prize for you once we get to the cabin.”

“Whoa!” she heard Curt yell playfully. “Keep it PG please. I know being locked up the last couple months with this whole pandemic has made people crazy, but I don’t need to picture you two getting all freaky on your little hiking trip. I’d like to enjoy this breakfast I’ve waited so long for Frank to cook me in peace.”

Karen walked back out into the living room in time to catch Frank’s face flush happily as he turned back towards the stove. 

“You’re just jealous,” he quipped. “Now that things are opening up, you should just don a mask and go over to Dinah’s. Take a bottle of wine and tell her you want to sit in the park.”

“Ha!” Curt looked away sheepishly. “I’m working on it brother. I am.” He tipped his beer towards Karen as she sat down beside him on the window seat. “I’ve got to hand it to you both. Between quarantining and work, you were still able to find a pretty sweet apartment.”

“I’ll take the credit for that!” Karen beamed. “I don’t think any place will ever meet Frank’s security standards, but I won on this place because it’s dog friendly. Got plan for the future right.” She batted her eyes suggestively at Frank who gave an amused huff. They’d been talking about a dog for a while now especially given the strain many shelters were under during the pandemic. Sighing happily, Karen looked out the window and caught the Hudson glinting between a few buildings. “Plus, it’s a great view.”

Curt nodded in agreement as his eyes trailed over the bookshelf to his left. “I like the decorations too. Did Frank pick out the picture of your lawyer buddies.” He gestured towards a picture resting beside Frank’s copy of _Moby Dick_. It was of Karen, Matt, and Foggy celebrating their first victory against Fisk. “I’m surprised he wants to see Murdock’s face every day in your new home especially since he threw a hissy fit when you two decided to live in sin together.”

Karen rolled her eyes and glanced playfully at Frank who ducked his head. “I think Frank and Matt were both a little drunk that night.”

“Yeah,” Frank chuckled as he loaded pancakes onto three plates, “The bruises reminded us both that nobody gives Karen permission to do anything. She does what she wants whether it’s living in sin or putting up a picture. Besides, Red may be a pain, but…he’s family.” He looked up quickly, “But don’t tell him I said that.”

Karen smiled. “I think I can keep a secret.”

She settled back for a moment and studied the picture on the shelf directly below her memento of Nelson and Murdock. _Maria, Lisa, and Frankie Jr._ It felt good to see them smiling back at her giving their blessing on this after she shared with Frank.

The last few months had been a whirlwind as New York bent to the tide of a rising pandemic. In some ways, life hadn’t stopped. Karen and her lawyers continued to aid people in Hell’s Kitchen; she continued to work with Ellison as a guest writer for the Bulletin; and Frank settled into a rhythm working for Dinah Madani. In other ways, life had slowed down a bit. The lockdown had given both her and Frank the opportunity to just be together without the threat of death lurking around them. It had given them a chance to begin learning about one another, really learn how to love and listen and argue ( _because let’s face it they were both stubborn)_ and show up for each other. Karen knew the calm wouldn’t last and so did Frank. That was the entire reason they were taking a vacation. Frank had told her about his meeting with Wilson Fisk, and it was only a matter of time before he tried to make a move on Hell’s Kitchen again. Only a matter of time before Dinah or Brett needed Frank and David to roger up to a bigger, more dangerous mission. It was only a matter of time.

Yet, Karen knew that she would handle whatever came next because she wasn’t alone. She had her friends. She had Frank. Her “after” was only beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments on this fic! It makes me so happy to hear folks have enjoyed this work. I had so much fun writing it, and can't wait to do some more. I hope you've enjoyed this version of an after for Kastle!


End file.
